


Never Before Never Again

by Tigresse



Series: JohnLock AU [5]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Developing Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Drama, M/M, Romance, Sherlock Holmes Becoming a Detective, Some Humor, some smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-03-16 20:03:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 43,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13643475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tigresse/pseuds/Tigresse
Summary: Young Sherlock is in big trouble. But every cloud has a silver lining and that silver lining is John Watson.





	1. Chapter 1

_A magnificent stately house, somewhere in the quiet English countryside_

 

The door was opened by a uniformed butler who ushered the guest inside with a polite smile. “Mr. Pyke, good evening sir. Please come in. Mr. Dunne is waiting for you in the parlor.”

 

Jeremy Pyke, well-known attorney, handed the butler his coat and hat and walked into the foyer before descending the four steps that took him into the plush and huge hall. Ornate pillars stood on all sides and a priceless Belgian chandelier hung above, lighting up the entire place in its incandescent glow. Several doors led to other rooms, like the ballroom, the formal dining room, the parlor, the study and home office while a hallway took one towards the galley and the kitchen. On one side was a sweeping staircase that led to the bedrooms in the floor above while another one led down to the basement where the staff quarters, the gymnasium and the indoor pool was.

 

Jeremy was led to the parlor of course, where a fire crackled merrily in the stone fireplace and Mr. Walter Dunne sat in an armchair, going through some papers. He was about forty, a tall and well-built man with platinum blond hair and pale blue eyes. Clad in an expensive three-piece suit and handmade bespoke shoes from the finest shoemaker in London, he was the picture-perfect English gentleman from a bygone era, sophisticated and charming. The moment he saw the attorney come inside though, his expression changed and he looked downbeat and forlorn.

 

“Jeremy,” Walter stood up, “So glad you could make it.”

 

“I had to,” Walter replied, “The wife is a bit upset I won’t be home for dinner but she will leave something in the oven for me, I suppose.”

“You could have dinner here.”

 

“Um….no, I’d rather head home after this. I had to show you the papers, so….”

 

Walter showed enormous restraint even though his heart was jumping and somersaulting in his chest. He was so close to his goal, so close. “Ah I see,” he took the file, “You will be sending me a soft copy as well, I suppose.”

 

“Oh yes, of course,” the attorney said, “Let me explain the inheritance documents to you. That’s best done in person.”

 

“Oh yes, sure.”

 

“Mr. Reginald Holmes and Mrs. Eugenia Holmes were very thrifty in the way they spent on themselves or their lifestyle. As a result of that nobody really knew the enormity of their possessions or their most impressive net worth. As you probably already know, they have this stately home, a townhouse in London, a flat in Manchester, a flat in Edinburgh, a villa in Cardiff and a penthouse in Paris. There is also the art collection, Mrs. Holmes jewelry and the investments they made. Recently they sold one of their companies and the money from that also got added to the mix.”

 

“How much would it all add up to?” Walter asked, eyes lighting up for a moment, “I know their dairy and meat packaging company is worth nearly fifty million pounds, the one that I am currently looking after, along with their estates and other interests.”

 

“Another fifty million,” Jeremy answered, showing some of the documents specifically to Walter, “The entire net worth, per this will, totals to a hundred and three million pounds and some change. As we both know there is only one heir to this fortune, though there could have been two. Sherlock stands to get all of this. The clauses in the will state that if his parents pass away while Sherlock is still a minor then this stays with the trust and he inherits it at twenty-one. If he is already twenty-one or above then he inherits it immediately unless he shows any symptoms of mental instability or disease or has fallen under the influence of narcotics. In case any calamity befalls him, whether the causes are natural or not, this goes to charities.”

 

Walter’s mouth twitched, “Then we are in a catch-22 situation, are we not?”

 

Jeremy sighed, “I have to admit it was my dad who handled the Holmes family affairs. But my dad had a stroke a year ago and can’t speak or move from the bed therefore I stepped in. I haven’t really known Sherlock for too long. I do remember him as a kid and he seemed fine.”

 

“Kids grow into teenagers,” Walter said, “That’s when the company they keep decide which way they’d go.”

 

“So true. So, what is the doctor’s verdict?”

 

“He is stable but not really showing improvement. The narcotics he used shortly after his parents’ sudden and unexpected death in the road mishap had some serious after-effects on his brain and added to the already existing family history of mental illness. You do know his maternal aunt and his elder brother were both victims of that.”

 

“Yes, yes I know that. But from what I heard, Sherlock was a genius. He was an outstanding student and completed his post graduate degree in chemistry from Oxford at the tender age of nineteen. He was doing his thesis and was also well-known for his violin playing abilities.”

 

Walter quickly deflected the topic, “Which is why it’s unfortunate that he’s no longer in possession of his common sense or aware of his surroundings. Grief does this to people. But don’t you worry, I am there for him. I have been a faithful servant of this house for over ten years and now is when I need….I mean the family needs me the most. My best friend Dr. Bergman is handling Sherlock’s case and he is very hopeful the poor boy will recover soon.”

 

“I certainly hope that is true,” Jeremy replied, “So, can I see him?”

 

“Of course,” Walter said, giving his butler a meaningful look, “Kevin, please bring Sherlock in.” The butler immediately went off to do his bidding while a maid brought in coffee and some snacks for their visitor. Jeremy refused all snacks and chose to have just coffee and stopped Walter from adding any brandy to it, saying he had to drive back to London which was almost a hundred miles away. “So then,” Walter began, “Sherlock’s treatment and the upkeep of the estates cost a lot of money and we shouldn’t let Sherlock feel he’s short on cash and can’t buy the things he could easily pick up while his folks were around…..”

 

“Oh yes,” Jeremy replied, “I have transferred hundred thousand pounds to the Holmes family account. This morning the money was credited.”

 

“Oh thank you.”

 

“No problem, just doing my job.”

 

Footsteps alerted them to someone’s presence and Kevin the butler and another male retainer helped a tall, rail thin, curly haired and pale faced young man into the room. He was clad in light blue pajamas and a dark blue robe, slippers on his feet and his pupils almost entirely dilated. Anyone who looked at him would either assume he was sick or had just recovered from sickness. Disoriented and unsteady on his feet, he could barely move or sit down without any assistance from the two men supporting him.

 

“Sherlock,” Jeremy was concerned and took the young man’s hands into his own, “How are you?”

 

“I….um….okay…who….who are you?”

 

“Sherlock, this is Jeremy. Remember uncle Benjamin, I am his son. I once gave you a piggyback ride from the woods when you were a child….Sherlock?”

 

“I….wanna….go to bed.”

 

“Listen to me Sherlock, you have to be strong. I know you miss your parents but…..”

 

“My parents….got killed….murderers….!”

 

“What?”

 

Walter instantly intervened and moved swiftly into action. He roughly pulled Sherlock to his feet and checked his pupils and pulse before asking Kevin to take him back to bed. “Inform the doctor to come and check on him first thing tomorrow.” He turned towards his guest and smiled sadly, “Most of the times he is like this. Stays cooped up in his bedroom, refuses to eat, doesn’t sleep unless he’s given sedatives and is disoriented and depressed most of the time.”

 

***

 

_A popular lounge bar in London_

 

John Watson, a surgeon at Barts, stood focusing on the target. Several people stood around him, waiting eagerly to see the good doctor take aim and throw the dart at the dartboard. Even the bartender stopped serving drinks and focused on John, who turned the three darts round and round in his right hand while his light brown eyes zoomed in on the bulls-eye. After a few moments of intense concentration, he threw the three darts with immaculate precision. All three hit the correct spot.

 

A loud cheer went up and the ladies clapped, drooling over the doctor’s capabilities. His aim and sharp focus was legendary and many an attractive woman at the pub would give anything to become Mrs. John Hamish Watson.

 

The only problem was that John Watson was a closeted homosexual. He had dated women in the past but during his brief stint in the army he had realized he was far more attracted to men than women. At first he was in denial and had pegged this down to ‘bisexuality’ but soon he reconciled himself with the fact that he desired cock much more than a vagina. Still, he kept his sexual preferences private and didn’t let the whole world know that all he needed was a good looking young man with a sharp mind and a kind heart to share his life with.

 

“John, that was awesome,” Linda said, ensuring her ample bosom pressed against his arm.

 

“Back in the military days did you kill many people?” Agnes asked eagerly, twirling around a little so her short skirt rode up slightly and revealed her toned thighs, “You are such a crack-shot it’s unbelievable.”

 

“Hey John,” another gay man named Michael secretly slipped his card into John’s pocket, “Call me sometime, okay?”

 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Mike Stamford, John’s colleague at Barts and his longstanding friend, grabbed John’s elbow and took him away from the adoring group, “I need some time alone with my pal. We have…ehm…..important things to discuss.”

 

People groaned but John and Mike paid no heed to that as they walked away to a corner booth where two overflowing mugs of beer awaited them. John was not a conventionally handsome man, about five feet seven inches tall, muscular, with sandy brown hairs and typical boy next door homely looks. But there was fire in his belly, iron in his resolutions and steel in his nerves, he had a great personality and was a very competent and successful surgeon at the mere age of thirty-one. His stint at the military also added to his confidence and sensuality, which people easily picked on. Mike Stamford often joked that John was the Dustin Hoffman of his generation.

 

“Slaying people as always as I see,” the older man teased.

 

John rolled his eyes, “Mike, you do know that this isn’t my cup of tea. I come here to meet you or Molly, not because I enjoy being here or love being the center of attention for a bunch of strangers. I am more of a homebody who’d rather curl up on the couch with a cup of tea or a glass of wine and watch the news on television or read a nice book. If these ladies who drool over me or some of the men who think they can melt the ice between us ever knew how boring my lifestyle is they’d run the moment I walk into the pub. Anyways, forget about me, how are things with you? Where is Molly?”

 

“Why is it that people who don’t want to be a playboy end up becoming playboys and people like us who desire to be Casanovas end up being ignored?” Mike feigned mock anger.

 

John chuckled, “The trick is not to try too hard.”

 

“Haha, look there is Molly.”

 

Molly Hooper was a cute woman in her mid-twenties, a budding journalist who had once interviewed the two doctors a couple of years earlier and struck up a great friendship with both. She was a clever, generous and well-read woman with an interesting personality and they got along very well. “Hey guys,” she greeted them and sat down on the empty chair, signaling at the waitress to bring her another beer, “Guess what, that affair story was true.”

 

“Oh, between the Earl and the porn star?” John snickered.

 

“Ahahahaha, yesss!”

 

Mike snorted, “Married man falling for a porn star. I can’t imagine anyone else in that position.”

 

Molly and John burst out laughing and pointed at him, “YOU!!!”

 

“Shush,” Mike said, “Lucy has ears sharp enough to pick up a word spoken in Dublin. And may I remind you we are in London, barely three miles from where she is.”

 

“I somehow envy you Molly,” John confessed, “You get to meet interesting people, watch sudden crazy things evolve, while all we do is operate, report, eat, drink, sleep, rinse repeat. I wish I could meet someone so interesting they’d turn my life and thoughts upside down. Maybe one day…..”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock escapes from his house imprisonment

Sherlock lay in his bed, miserable and lonely.

 

Only a year ago things were so perfect. He was successful, carefree, optimistic and eager to meet a new day. And now, barely ten months later, all his dreams were in tatters and he shuddered whenever he thought about the future.

 

His final thesis had been submitted, his father was about to sponsor a new laboratory for him and he had a patent ready to be tested for actual use. His future was bright and his life a collage of rainbow colors. His doting mother had just thrown a twenty-first birthday party for him and purchased a Ferrari sports car as a gift. There had been talks about an alliance with his childhood best friend Victor Trevor, a man a couple of years older than him. Victor was dong a stint in foreign services with the British High Commission in Rome. Though not eager to marry or settle down at a young age, Sherlock didn’t mind an engagement and a promise. He liked Victor, though for the past two years he had hardly spent time with his friend.

 

Then his parents suddenly died. Sherlock knew he would never forget that evening when the phone rang and a strange voice said ‘Sorry Mr. Holmes, your parents had an accident. The car fell off the cliff, sixty feet into the gorge. They might not survive…..”

 

His downward spiral had begun right after that. He had smelled a rat when it came to his parents’ sudden and shocking deaths. But nobody had believed him, not even Victor, not even Walter who had been his father’s closest aide and confidante. The cops had put it down to severe delusions and depression following the unexpected loss of his entire family. An enraged Sherlock had been introduced to drugs and started using, only to nearly overdose on it and land up in rehab for three weeks.

 

He had emerged clean but that was when Walter had shown his real face. Sherlock had literally been held captive at home. He was occasionally given shots which didn’t really keep him under influence but were enough to make him test positive. He was given sedatives every night, shown to shrinks who were paid by Walter to keep him unstable, even their family lawyer Jeremy had started to believe that Sherlock was mad.

 

Sherlock knew what Walter wanted. He was never going to give it to him.

 

His only hope was that Victor would arrive someday to rescue him from this mess. But somehow even Victor hadn’t tried to contact him.

 

The door opened.

 

Sherlock immediately slid back in bed, pulling the covers right up to his chin. In came the butler, the retainer and Walter. The retainer was a huge man whom no sane person would try a fist fight. The butler held a gun with a sound suppressor attached to it. But the worse was Walter.

 

Like always, he had a malicious grin on his face and dark fury in his eyes.

 

“Sherlock,” he spoke in a fake soft voice which Sherlock had come to recognize as one that always led to a threat or ultimatum, “It’s been seven and half months and you’re making it worse for yourself.”

 

Sherlock turned his face away. He felt the bed dip and cringed, the horrid creature was now sitting right next to him. He stayed very still but the moment Walter touched his chin his hand lashed out and struck the man clean across his face. Walter staggered backwards while Kevin, the butler, pressed the revolver on to Sherlock’s temple and cocked the gun. “What are you doing you fool,” Walter rebuked him and pushed the gun away, wiping the blood from the corner of his lips, “Sherlock is disturbed, angry, he has suffered great losses in the recent past. We must not behave badly with him. We must be patient. I am being very patient with you, am I not Sherlock?”

 

Sherlock simply huffed.

 

“You broke the jaw of one of my men, kicked the other in the groin and rendered the only tree in his forest useless, slammed the third person against the mirror and got his face scarred and cracked open a fourth person’s skull. Still we are here, stronger than ever, while you increasingly grow isolated and weak. Hitting me or anyone else is not going to work in your favor you brilliant stupid boy. Really, for someone who’s such an academic genius your common sense is practically absent.”

 

“You will pay for this,” Sherlock growled.

 

“Look at you, so handsome, so stubborn, so unfortunately stupid. Come on, nobody believes you anymore. Nobody asks for you anymore. Your relatives came to visit but under the influence of our meds you created such violent scenes that they won’t come back again. I have medical report which prove your insanity. Your elder brother is long gone and now, so are your parents. Daddy or mummy won’t come to your rescue. Do you not understand this?”

 

“Fuck off.”

 

“Look, I will say this one more time. It’s best if you agree to marry me and sign over everything to me. Okay, keep a couple of million to yourself and then go out in the world and enjoy your life again. But until then, this is where you will be. Captive, considered mad and dangerous.”

 

“The only reason I am alive is because I haven’t signed those papers yet,” Sherlock snapped, “The moment I do I won’t get two million, not even two cents. I would be suddenly dead and gone, probably from an overdose or some staged accident. By then you’d have nothing to lose from my death and nothing to gain from my life. Do you really think I am silly enough to trust a scorpion like YOU? You killed mum and dad.”

 

“You have been saying this for months and that’s only led to more suffering for you my little sweetheart. Believe me, I like you. My first preference was your brother but he was too smart and didn’t step into my orbit. You were smart too but unlike your brother you didn’t take the clever decision to run away from here. Had you done so you would have been……”

 

“You caused strife between Myc and our dad,” Sherlock hissed, “You have been planning this for a very long time you rascal.”

 

“Careful Sherlock,” Walter tapped on the gun held by Kevin, “I am the only reason he isn’t pulling the trigger. I could easily sell off things that are not covered explicitly under the will, like the factory machinery, the land your dad purchased to expand his business, the art and paintings, your mum’s diamonds, shares which were purchased jointly between your dad and me and make about ten million from those alone. I could cut you into bite size pieces and toss them away to the wolves and nobody will be any wiser. Don’t force me to take that route now. Be sensible and say yes.”

 

Sherlock spat on Walter’s face and screamed, “A greedy bastard like you will never settle for even a penny less than what is on the will. So don’t give me those empty threats.”

 

Walter’s voice was cold as ice as he stood up, “Give him his dose and put him to sleep. I’ll deal with him again tomorrow. Time to up the dose I think.”

 

“No, no, no, NO,” Sherlock screamed but two more men joined the other two and together they incapacitated him and held him down while he was given the shot. Tears rolled down the poor young man’s eyes as he sank slowly into a drug fueled coma like sleep.

 

But before he dozed off he heard something really scary.

 

“Boss, why do you tolerate his insults? He has started to hit you, spit on you, he could get really violent and end up injuring you someday.”

 

“Don’t be a fool Kevin. We cannot leave any marks on him. If Jeremy suspects anything or that confounded Victor Trevor suddenly shows up and demands to see him we will be done for. Right now people think he is violent, drugged up, unstable and we are the ones caring for him. That perception should not change under any circumstances. I think I will ask my friend Dr. Bergman to try a new experimental drug on him, one which will keep him under influence but also leave him with enough clarity to go through an impromptu wedding with me. He won’t be able to think straight but can still sign the papers and walk down the aisle for an exchange of vows with me.”

 

“Oh that is fantastic. How soon boss?”

 

“In a week, at the most.”

 

***

 

“Thanks doc, you saved my brother’s life,” the thankful, tearful woman shook John’s hand, “This is a small gift from our side. Please accept it.”

 

“You really shouldn’t have,” John took the bottle of expensive Scotch from the lady and set it on the table, “I was only doing my job. I refused your daughter and your husband earlier but….”

 

“But I insist you accept it,” the lady gave him an unexpected hug, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” With that she left, looking happy and relieved while a still dazed John stared after her. Sometimes he felt as if people gave him too much credit for his work and it embarrassed him a lot. But it also gladdened his heart because he was so fond of his work, so dedicated, that seeing all his patients cured and happy again was his biggest reward. The pay was good too, though he knew it would be much better if he started his private clinic. Maybe in the future he would, when there was enough capital.

 

He was still looking at the bottle when Mike entered his chambers.

 

“Ohhhh, Scotchhh.”

 

“No, none for you, I promised Edith.”

 

“You know Edith because she is my wife. I am your friend John, your sympathies should lie with me buddy.”

 

“The rate at which your waistline is expanding Mike, I think my sympathies should lie with Edith who seems to be trying to control it. You aren’t.”

 

“Haha, Edith will be gone for two weeks. She’s visiting her family in Dublin. Let’s do a small party at my place. Call Molly, Sebastian.”

 

“Sebastian,” John did a facepalm, looking at his calendarized engagements for the day, “Oh damn it, I almost forgot something. He is getting engaged today and invited me to the get-together. I need to buy a gift for him and his fiancé and also be there for at least half an hour or maybe one. A friend from the military days Mike, you know how upset he will be if I don’t show up or show up really late.”

 

“Ah, don’t even risk that. Go if you have to, I shall cover for you.”

 

John looked relieved, “Really? Is it okay? Won’t Edith mind?”

 

“Nope, girls’ night out tonight.”

 

“Fantastic man. I’ll owe you one.”

 

Mike grinned, “You owe me Scotch.”

 

***

 

Sherlock was lying on his bed, a storm of thoughts running through his head. He had no time. He had to act fast. Enough with the ‘feeling sorry for myself’ phase. He had to get out of this and teach these villains a lesson. The Sherlock of the previous year had to emerge from his broken, battered soul and make his presence felt. No more tolerating those goons and their malevolent behavior, time to break free and live his life. Staying here any longer was going to end in a horrid tragedy, just like his parents. His old man had trusted the wrong man and paid dearly for his mistake. Sherlock didn’t want to follow suit.

 

So he had devised a plan. It was aided a bit by the maid Katherine who, for some reason, had taken pity on him and stopped giving him injections. Instead she was mixing the drugs, on his request, in his food.

 

Sherlock never ate that food. Whatever he ate in her presence he forcibly threw up the moment she was gone. The rest of the food was flushed down the toilet and Sherlock survived on the milk and cookies that were kept as his only ‘snacking’ supplies in the room. It made him hungry all the time but that was a small price to pay to escape this misfortune waiting to befall him. That night, as Katherine gave him his food, he demanded that she get some extra condiments for him. As soon as she was gone, he flushed the food and left a few crumbs.

 

“Was famished,” he said by means of explanation and let out a fake loud yawn, “I’m so sleepy.”

 

“Good,” Katherine said, happy that she wouldn’t have to come back to check if he was asleep or not, “Brush your teeth and get into bed. No harm in an early bedtime tonight.”

 

Once she left, Sherlock stayed still and quiet in bed till it was midnight. Then he got out quietly, like a mouse, and quickly dressed in a pair of jeans, a T shirt, a sweater and threw a denim jacket on top. He pulled on socks, trainers and finished the look with a beanie that covered his trademark dark brown curls and a white and blue striped scarf his mummy had knitted for him. His phone and wallet had been taken away from him so there was nothing else to carry.

 

He used the air-conditioning duct to escape and landed in the backyard about twenty minutes later. Using his sharp insight into technology and his nimbleness, he disabled the alarms at two spots and scaled the wall, landing on the other side without any difficulty. As luck would have it, once he had covered some distance he saw an eighteen wheeler truck on the nearby Highway. The driver was taking care of a flat tyre. Sherlock discreetly climbed into the container that was open and hid behind some motorcycles the truck was ferrying.

 

Finally, finally, he was free from that prison. Hopefully a better future lay ahead of him now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter our boys meet ;-)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Collision course for our boys

John eventually reached his ex-military mate’s engagement party on time. On the way he had purchased a cocktail-set for him and his fiancé and even got the item personalized in a hurry. He just knew the fiancé’s name, Jim, and decided to engrave Seb and Jim on the outer box.

 

He saw the former army sniper and colonel seated amidst a bunch of well-dressed men and women, a variety of gourmet offerings and expensive wine and Scotch laid out on the table between them.

 

Sebastian Moran was a poster boy for alpha males. He was a six and half feet tall mini giant whose body was a network of pure muscle. Tanned, ripped, blue eyed and golden haired, he could have easily fitted into the Baywatch cast or taken on the role of Terminator with aplomb. John remembered him in his fatigues, a handsome and dazzling man who oozed authority and inspired fear and devotion simply from his deep voice, vertigo inflicting height and super-confident gait and posture. Even those senior in ranks to him wouldn’t mess with him, not even if he threw one of his infamous temper tantrums or got violent while disciplining team members.

 

“Hiya there John,” Sebastian called out boisterously as John stepped into the private party room at the Ritz. Only VIP’s were allowed to book such rooms, like state guest, royalty, billionaires, high posted government officials or celebrities like Tom Cruise. Sebastian clearly had contacts.

 

“Hey Seb,” John looked up at the enormous man who was beaming with happiness and pride, “Man you look really happy.”

 

“I should be,” Sebastian said, “Finally he agreed to wear my ring.”

 

“Am I going to meet him now?” John looked at the group, not sure which one was the lucky one.

 

“Oh yes, he is just….oh there he is, darling meet my friend John.”

 

John turned and saw a man step into the private room. For a second John was quite taken aback. It was a man just about two inches taller than him, slender as a reed, with dark hair and gorgeous dark eyes that reflected both intelligence and a variety of expressions. He had alabaster skin, prominent cheekbones and a mesmerizing smile. Overall a very attractive man but certainly not what John had expected. He thought it would be someone taller, older, more mature or at least more traditional.

 

“Hello,” the young man extended a hand shyly and spoke in a soft lilting voice which reflected a pronounced Dublin accent, “I am Jim.”

 

“Congratulations Jim,” John placed the gift in Jim’s hands. He noticed the rock like diamond on the man’s fingers. But as they shook hands, there was something about the man’s grip that puzzled him. He was certainly much stronger than he looked.

 

“John was the military doctor,” Sebastian explained, “He saved my life once. I was shot in the neck baby.”

 

“Ohhh, don’t remind me of that now, that scar on your neck does that job quite regularly,” Jim said in a pleading tone. Thereafter he wrapped himself around the much taller Sebastian who promptly started coochie-cooing with him like a college boy in love. John watched the, fond smile on his face, and wondered when he’d have someone like that in his life, someone he could dote on and look after, someone who would be as happy to be in his arms as Jim clearly was fond of Sebastian’s hugs. “Congratulations to both of you,” he said in a pleasant voice, “So have you set a date for the wedding yet or is it going to be just the ‘I promise you’ ring?”

 

“If I have my way I’d marry him now, in a heartbeat,” Sebastian guffawed.

 

“I am the one acting pricey,” Jim replied, gazing into Seb’s eyes.

 

“Jim is a maths professor John. Don’t get fooled by his age. He is a sheer genius and he became a professor at the age of twenty-one last year, post the completion of his thesis. He is about to crack one of the most complex mathematical codes the world has ever known. Just wait for us to share the good news with you soon. Once that is done, we will walk down the aisle together and when that happens, you must not attend alone.”

 

John sighed, “Not within my powers my friend. For that I need to meet the right person.”

 

***

 

Sherlock woke up with a start and realized they were in London. The sounds of the traffic, the lights, the overall feel of one of the largest cities in the world told him they had entered the capital city sometime ago. Time to scoot and find his friend Victor’s brother Jacob.

 

He had an address, not even a phone number. That was in his mobile and he had never bothered to memorize it. Damn!

 

He sneaked out when the truck had come to a standstill at a traffic signal. He looked around and realized he was somewhere in Piccadilly square. Hungry as a wolf and thirsty on top of that, the first thing he did was step into a nice eatery and order a thick juicy steak with grilled vegetables, a large bottle of mineral water and a glass of wine. He was served soon and barely had the waiter placed the food before him when he started to wolf it down. A couple of people looked at him as he ate with such gusto, but the young man was least bothered. Hunger had nearly killed his brain by then.

 

An hour later he felt more human and, after a quick trip to the washroom to freshen up and relieve himself, he was ready to be on the road again.

 

“Excuse me sir,” a waitress came to him and said, “I believe you haven’t paid for your meal.”

 

Sherlock paled. Fuck! He was fucked! He had no money, not even a watch on him, nothing to trade off in the absence of cash and cards. What was he going to do? Hunger and thirst had paralyzed his brain and he had ended up eating at an upmarket restaurant without even checking for a wallet or some cash in his pocket. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he was going to either get thrown in jail or subjected to the ignominy of washing dishes in the kitchen all night long. “I, um, I mean…..can I pay tomorrow….I seem to have forgotten my wallet so…..I will pay tomorrow, I promise.”

 

Her friendly demeanor changed and she frowned, looking rather menacing. “In that case,” she quipped, “You should have eaten tomorrow. If you eat today you pay today.”

“I seriously don’t have any money….”

 

“Listen kid. You look like you’ve seen better days. Just call dad or mum and ask them to pay. If you’ve run away from home then ask an uncle or aunt. But the payment must be made in full before we allow you to leave this establishment. Without that, you stay here and I inform the manager or the cops.”

 

“NO, I mean look, don’t do this. I can explain.”

 

“No can do. Just pay and leave quietly or this will get ugly.”

 

Sherlock took a deep breath and threw caution out of the window for the second time in two days. He pushed past her and jumped out of a window, thanking the Heavens that this was the ground floor. He landed on someone’s table, causing plates and glasses to go scattering and breaking. A woman screeched, a man shouted obscenities and a general commotion started inside the restaurant as the waitress alerted the others about a payment defaulter.

 

Sherlock began to run at top speed.

 

“Stop, thief, stop him, thieeeef,” he heard cries behind him.

 

For a moment he felt like stopping and screaming back ‘Technically I am not a thief you bitch’ but the sound of footsteps following him told him not to try anything foolhardy. He continued to run, hoping he didn’t stumble or reach a dead end. He was not very familiar with this part of London and in case he ended up in some unknown alley he could easily get cornered and trapped like a dormouse.

 

To make matters worse, a full stomach slowed him down.

 

***

 

John was waiting for a cab but there were none on that street. It was late and all the cabs that passed by were either occupied or the cabbies ignored him and drove past without even slowing down. Muttering in irritation, he started walking, hoping he would find a cab somewhere ahead on the street. Suddenly his phone rang and a very cheerful Mike Stamford greeted him with ‘So, how does it feel like to be part of a private party at the Ritz?”

 

John huffed, “It was great but damn it, I didn’t bring my car since I knew I was going to drink. Now I can’t get a Goddamned cab back home.”

 

“Dude I would have picked you up but the wife is back home and I don’t want to antagonize her before she leaves for two weeks,” Mike stated in a hushed whisper while John heard his wife Lucy talking to someone in the background, “If we fight, she will want me to make it up to her with an expensive gift and if not that, she will expect me to come along with her. Either ways I land up in a big pile of trouble. Just wait a bit, I am sure someone will take pity on your poor lonesome self and let you hitch a ride with them. If it’s a handsome young man who is rich and sexy, don’t forget to take his phone number.”

 

John started to smile despite his predicament.

 

“Mike, I have to say you are an expert at fairy tales. Handsome young men who have money and charm don’t stop to pick up strangers at this time of the night. They would already be with a man or woman of their choice.”

 

“Maybe one of them had a breakup.”

 

“Another fairy tale.”

 

“How about someone who’s car has broken down and is also walking along that street looking for a cab?”

 

John had just opened his mouth to speak when someone dashed into him. Automatically his arms went around the person who seemed to collapse on the ground and before that stranger hit the sidewalk, John was down on one knee and supporting him in his arms.

 

He looked at the stranger and gasped.

 

Handsome, exquisite, wearing very expensive branded clothes. So rich as well. Sexy too, if that aquiline face was anything to go by and those cupid’s bow lips.

 

“John, what happened? You okay?”

 

“I just….a handsome young man…..just…..I’ll call you back, okay?”

 

“Oh no problem, I guess some fairy tales can be true. Talk to you later buddy. Bye.”

 

John disconnected the phone and looked at the young man who was unconscious in his arms. He blinked and gasped again. God, he was a beauty! Though disheveled and clearly distressed, his natural good looks still filtered through his outer state and John felt his heart rate increase at an alarming pace. Soft, smooth skin, hint of a stubble on that perfect jawline, those luscious lips which were meant for kissing, silky soft curls that swept a rather unconventionally handsome face, he couldn’t believe that he had just accidentally ‘bumped’ into this man for nothing. The universe was trying to tell him something here.

 

In a minute he knew what that message was.

 

This young man was in trouble.

 

Three men came running up, all of them panting like dogs which made it very clear that it had been a very long chase. They looked like waiters at some restaurant because they wore uniforms and one even had an apron tied to his front. “Oh damn,” the first one said, leaning against the wall to catch his breath, “We caught him but it looks like we’re late. Hey mister, what happened? How did he collapse? Is he all right or not?”

 

John quickly made a plan in his head and replied, “You guys are going to jail.”

 

“Why?” The second one asked but panic was already written large on his face, “We did nothing.”

 

“Oh yeah? Then how did this poor fellow die?”

 

“Dead???” The third one gasped, turned tail and ran back. The first two also started to back off step by step.

 

“You guys must have done something,” John took the bull by its horns, “Did you hit him or push him, did he hit his head or something? I am sorry but I have to report this to the cops right away. A man is dead.”

“No, we didn’t do anything, we….listen….we are leaving….we didn’t do a thing,” the two said in unison and began to back off.

 

“I am calling the cops all the same,” John whipped out his phone. Seeing that both the men followed their colleague and ran off like scalded dogs. Grinning from ear to ear, John nudged the young man in his arms and said, “Coast is clear. You can stop acting.”

 

Green eyes opened and stared at him in gratitude and John Watson knew he had fallen in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love at first sight for John and love at first blink for Sherlock? Let's see ;-)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John brings Sherlock home

Sherlock was sure he was going to land up in big trouble. He was seriously out of breath, stressed out and tired and weakened from months of captivity and drugs administered to him. When he knew he could run no more he had felt his legs and lungs give away and right at that moment his savior had appeared on the scene. Some random man, short but strong, had caught him in his arms just as he was about to collapse.

 

As it turned out, this kindly stranger was a smart cookie too. Sherlock was not really unconscious as the exchange happened between his benefactor and his chasers and had somehow played the part of a ‘corpse’ pretty well.

 

Now, as he looked at the intelligent, kind and helpful man, he also found him to be just the sort of person he would like to date. The concept of dating had been alien to him, as alien as the concept of love or feelings. Victor was a great friend and that was all he had known so far, a good pal, a truly enriching friendship. That spark of love had never been there. But right now, as he stared into those light brown eyes, he felt as if his whole world was dissolving into bright colors. His pulse raced and this time no physical exercise was responsible for it, only the strange and strong attraction he felt towards this older man. How old was he? Maybe nine or ten years older than him?

 

“Coast is clear. You can stop acting.”

 

Sherlock stood up with some difficulty. His knees wobbled.

 

“You all right?” The man asked, still holding him by his elbow and supporting him.

 

“I…I am…believe me I was not….I am sorry.”

 

“Nope, what are you sorry for. I get it totally.”

 

“Excuse me? What do you mean?”

 

“You had a bar brawl and they took that personally. It’s a bit too much to chase a patron like this but then some establishments are pretty weird. The waiters start behaving like they own the place and can do whatever they want.”

 

“No,” Sherlock bowed his head, “I forgot my wallet and couldn’t pay the bill.”

“Ah I see,” the man replied in a nonjudgmental tone. He appeared to understand the younger man’s situation, “These things happen. They can be embarrassing though. By the way, my name is John Watson.”

 

“William Sherlock Scott Holmes. You can call me Sherlock.”

 

_Sherlock this man’s house could be your shelter for the night. Don’t be a proud idiot. You have no money to pay for a hotel room and by the end of the night you could very well get arrested for loitering around. Ask, don’t let this opportunity go, just ask him right now._

 

Before the other man could respond, Sherlock blurted out the next words. “Can I….can you, I mean may I spend the night at your place? I will leave first thing in the morning, I promise.”

 

***

 

While John had always liked and appreciated his longstanding buddy Mike Stamford, he had never taken that jovial man’s words seriously. Mike could be hilarious, outrageously obtuse and sometimes very impractical. But at that moment, around two in the morning, with this gorgeous young man standing in front of him and asking him for a night’s stay at his place, he began to wonder if Mike had some powers of premonition. Just like his friend had said in humor, he had truly landed a jackpot. This had happened right out of the blue and he could hardly believe his luck.

 

“I guess you could,” he replied before he had even had a chance to think.

 

To further add to his good fortunes, a cab slowed down the moment he raised his hand and thankfully it was not occupied. “Rheinus Street,” John instructed the cab driver and ushered Sherlock into it before he climbed in as well. Sherlock instantly scooted to one side and literally leaned on to the door, as if he didn’t trust John to not molest him inside the car. Smirking slightly at his skittishness, John closed the door and stayed on his own side, not making any movements. The frightened colt beside him could choose to flee any moment.

 

The drone of the cab engine and the gentle rocking motions of the moving vehicle began to have their effects on Sherlock and he felt drowsier and drowsier. His body had settled into a pattern of falling into a drug induced sleep every night and he could no longer fight the haze of sleep that started to grip him. As long as he was running from those waiters he was alert and awake but this inaction and silence brought back the drowsiness full force.

 

He was more tired and exhausted than he thought because within minutes he fell into a coma like sleep.

 

John watched it happen and suddenly a sense of dread gripped him. What if this youngster was an addict? What if he was part of a gang who had laid out a trap for him? What is he was really a thief and a criminal? His inner voice began to rebuke him immediately.

 

_John you shouldn’t have acted on impulse, this could land you into a lot of trouble._

 

A sudden weight on his shoulder and he saw a headful of curls resting there. With one sudden swerve of the car the young man had landed on his side with his head on John’s shoulder.

 

John sat stiffly, unsure of what he was supposed to do. His body screamed at him to ravish this beautiful young man while his soul called for restraint and caution. On top of that, this was a cab they were in and John had never been one for any public display of affection. In fact, whenever he saw couples pawing each other in public he only harbored disapproval towards them. Relationships were private, not public fodder.

 

“Seems like you will get lucky tonight mister,” the young cabbie leered as he watched the spectacle in his rear-view mirror.

 

The comment was uncalled for and the man was out of line, still John understood why the cabbie said what he said. A slightly older man with a young stunner, the latter looking drunk and unable to help himself, at this time of the night, it added up to a certain picture. While many in his place would find this flattering, John did not. The implications behind those words were not lost on him. He looked like a man who had hired someone for the night or was about to take advantage of someone that night. “Why don’t you concentrate on your job pal,” he lashed out, “It’s none of your business.”

 

“Ooops, sorry,” the cabbie called out, not sounding sorry at all.

 

“You know I could lodge a complaint,” John said firmly.

 

“You know I could refuse to complete this trip stating security concerns or suspicions of wrongdoing,” the man shot back.

 

Not wanting to get into a heated argument with a stranger over another stranger, John simply settled it with a curt, “Just drive and we don’t need to talk.”

 

***

 

It was quite an effort getting Sherlock out of the cab. He was fast asleep and even after being nudged several times he woke up barely enough to stumble out of the vehicle and land in John’s arms. Red in the ears and cheeks, John hurriedly paid the smirking cabbie, wished he got his teeth broken in a fight and somehow managed to half support, half carry Sherlock through the door of his house.

 

He hoped his neighbor Mrs. Hudson was not awake at this hour. She was a sweetheart but also very patronizing and intrusive at times. While she did all of that because she treated John like a son she never had, John was reluctant to let her see him like this.

 

What was he going to say to her? ‘Hello Mrs. Hudson, this is a man who collided with me and then fell asleep in the cab as we boarded it together for a common destination’ or ‘Hey Mrs. Hudson, I chose to do some social service and saved this penniless young man in designer clothes from three angry waiters, then brought him home’. Nope, no excuse or reason would suffice for this case and he didn’t want her to suspect anything that didn’t exist. He had to smuggle Sherlock out in the morning without she spotting him.

 

“Christ,” he groaned as both he and Sherlock lost balance and fell as soon as they exited the elevator on the fifth floor where John lived, “Wake up man, you’re acting drunk without being drunk at all. I drank more than you and I’m still on my feet, you light weight.”

 

“Don’ l’ke inject’ns,” Sherlock mumbled and leaned heavily on to John as the older man unlocked the door and pulled him in. “What did you say?” John asked, not expecting an answer but deciding to talk to his uninvited guest nonetheless, “Hey stay with me, don’t doze off, this is my flat. I hope you remember you wanted to stay the night here.” That was when he realized that this Sherlock might not have been in his senses when he asked for shelter for the night. What if he woke up and didn’t remember anything? What if he woke up and thought John had brought him here to take advantage of him?

 

“Nah,” John consoled himself as he guided Sherlock towards the guest room, “If he’s not violated or robbed he can’t toss an accusation at me. No, he can’t, can he?”

 

“Hurts,” Sherlock mumbled again as John gripped his upper arm to drag him into the bedroom.

 

“What the hell, you’re heavy. Try to walk, I can’t carry…..oh all right. I will.”

 

“Hurts…..”

 

John frowned at the repeated word. Was the kid not well? Was he injured? Maybe a cracked rib after the fight or a previously broken shoulder acting up again. It could be anything. Hard to say with all those clothes on. With a sigh he lifted Sherlock over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry and dropped him unceremoniously on the bed. Sherlock cracked open an eye and whispered ‘What….where am I…..who are you?’

 

“Um….John….remember you nearly knocked me down and….”

 

“I told you dad…..”

 

“Dad???!!!”

 

“I wish you had listened to me.”

 

“Sherlock, I am John, not you father. Where is your father? Can I contact him? Does he need to come here and take you back home?”

 

Sherlock didn’t respond. He was out like the light.

 

John was about to leave the room but on an impulse he decided to check the man’s arms. After all, every time he had gripped the arms tight he had heard groans from Sherlock and that repeated mumbling of ‘hurts’. Could be an injury or wound that needed attention.

 

“I am only doing this so he’s comfy, so he’s properly looked after,” John muttered under his breath and started unbuttoning Sherlock’s shirt.

 

It took him some time and effort but soon he had managed to get the young man’s shoes, socks, belt, trousers, jacket, sweater and shirt off. He wisely and respectfully left the boxers on and peeled his eyes away from the man’s groin, thighs and washboard abs. Tempting as it was to look at every inch of this gorgeous creature, doing so without his permission felt like a violation of trust between guest and host. He was not a brute and couldn’t do that! After covering him up till the waistline, John switched on one of the bedside lamps and a gasp left him the next moment. Sherlock’s arms were pockmarked with needle jabs and bruises.

 

Being a doctor John knew those weren’t marks he had made. Someone else was drugging him.

 

“Sleep well,” he whispered, feeling a strange compassion for his guest. The lust and arousal coursing through him only a few minutes ago were gone, replaced by an intense curiosity and sympathy. Whoever this fellow was, he hadn’t had a happy life in the past few months. He looked malnourished, his ribs were beginning to show, and there were dark circles under his eyes. His skin was pale and bruised here and there. Nobody with that kind of money would be in such a situation unless they had been compromised in some way.

 

John knew he was attracted to the young man but after seeing his vulnerable state, he felt a surge of protectiveness run through him. He couldn’t bring himself to admire the beauty that was obvious to his eyes.

 

“Listen,” he whispered close to Sherlock’s ears, “I am in the next room in case you need me.”

 

Then, after thinking through the situation some more, he scribbled a simple message on a piece of paper, folded it into a tent and placed it next to the pillow.

 

_‘Hi Sherlock, my name is Dr. John Watson. I met you by chance last night and you wanted to stay over at my place till the morning. You were out of it in the cab so I got you into my flat and put you to bed in the guest room. If you need something, I am in the next room.’_

 

His eyes lingered on the reposed face and the curls that fell all over the forehead and cheeks. For a second he even reached out to touch those sculpted cheekbones, wondering how this man would look when he was well-rested, well-fed, and safe from all dangers. Would he appreciate and thank John or would he just leave? Did he already have someone in his life? Was he even gay?

 

“What a conundrum,” he mumbled and left the room, forcing himself not to look back.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John starts falling in love while Sebastian and Jim make love :D

“THIS IS PREPOSTEROUS!”

 

The yell from Walter Dunne made all his henchmen startle. None of them looked into his eyes.

 

“You lousy bunch of idiots,” Walter continued to rant and shout, “All of you, all six of you couldn’t keep an eye on one person. For months I have been keeping him drugged, doped, captive, isolated and threatened. He was on the verge of breaking down and agreeing to my terms and conditions and suddenly he flees, all because you are a bunch of losers who can’t get one thing done properly. And now it’s been twenty-four hours and there are no signs of him anywhere. He could have gone to any city, met or called anybody, he could ask for help and we’d all be in big trouble. God damn it, I should kick your arse into the next century.”

 

“He was not eating the food properly,” Kevin said, “That’s why he was not so drugged that he couldn’t plot his escape and carry it out.”

 

“Don’t give me these fucking reasons. If he was not eating properly then you guys should have force-fed him or stood there till he ate.”

 

“He turned out to be more resourceful than we thought. He escaped through the ducts. He scaled the wall. He disabled alarms. We had underestimated him.”

 

“But he has underestimated me as well. Now he will get to see just how ruthless Walter Dunne can be.”

 

“Boss,” the maid entered the room, “Your phone was ringing.”

 

“Then let it ring damn it,” Walter snapped.

 

“It is Victor Trevor sir.”

 

Walter’s expression went from anger to apprehension. He quickly went to the next room and called Victor back, afraid that the man might smell a rat in case his calls went unanswered. Quickly making up a story in his head, he dialed the number from which he had a missed call and waited. In just a single ring Victor answered the phone. “Hey Walter, where is Sherlock? It’s been weeks since I last spoke to him, actually months. First you tell me he is travelling, then he is unwell, then he’s broken his phone, what is the excuse this time?”

 

Walter swallowed, “No, err….actually I am…..”

 

“Tell him in case he has met someone else he should tell me so.”

 

“I…ehm….I don’t know about that, maybe he has…..”

 

“Oh! In that case I will be coming down in two weeks. On the twentieth, to be precise, and Sherlock better be there to see me. Or else I will find out where he is and confront him. As it is, he doesn’t have many friends so his whereabouts will be known to me in a matter of hours. Tell him this, I don’t mind whatever decision he takes, I will respect that, but I do appreciate being told about it.”

 

“I-I will,” Walter replied, sighing with relief when the line finally went dead.

 

A thundercloud hanging over his head, Walter went back to the room where his men immediately stood at attention, holding their breaths for another outburst from their employer. But this time when Walter spoke his voice was deathly calm. “We have time till twentieth. On that day Sherlock’s friend and his proposed future fiancé will be flying down to London to see him. I have been holding this off for months but I can’t do that any longer. If he comes here and we don’t have Sherlock before that, all drugged up and disoriented, it will be the end of our plans. Do whatever it takes, look for him. Most likely he would have gone to either Manchester or Cardiff or London, where the family has properties and a few friends.”

 

He paused and said, “Luckily there aren’t too many. The family was very insular. Now don’t stand there and gawk at me like nincompoops. Go and find him before he finds a way to destroy me and my plans.”

 

***

 

John hadn’t slept well that night.

 

Thoughts about Sherlock had kept him awake and after only four and half hours of sleep, he was up again at seven-thirty. He quickly brushed, showered, shaved and started preparing breakfast, hoping Sherlock would wake up soon and they’d find a way forward.

 

Much as he wanted to explore some options with this young man, he was wary of the baggage he carried. He could have been a tormented soul, someone who had fallen into bad company or someone who was simply wicked and had gotten himself into a spot of trouble. Whatever he was, this man was going to be high-maintenance and John was aware of that. Still he felt an incredible urge to know him better, to help him, to befriend him and hope someday they actually became a couple.

 

“If wishes were horses,” he whispered to himself as he cooked, “Beggars would ride.”

 

Then he snickered and added, “I guess people on welfare can actually afford horses. We folks can’t, not after the taxes we pay.”

 

By nine breakfast was ready. Toast with baked beans, poached eggs, bacon and rashers, tea, orange juice, grilled tomato. John looked at the closed door of the guest bedroom.

 

No signs of his guest being up yet. He had to head to work in an hour at the most. There was a surgery scheduled at noon and he had to study the case, scrub up, do a quality check of the operating theatre and be ready by 11:45 am. That was non-negotiable.

 

He tapped on the door and slowly opened it. The bed was empty.

 

“Fuck,” John jumped and quickly started searching the other rooms in the flat. Thankfully it was not a big one and in a grand total of five minutes he had scanned every nook and cranny. There was his own bedroom, the master bedroom, the sitting room, the small room that doubled up as his study and home office, the small kitchen and dining space, a tiny laundry room and a slice of a balcony. There were no signs of Sherlock anywhere. A sense of sadness and loss came over the doctor who tried to reconcile himself to the fact that his guest was meant to leave in the morning anyways. But it would have been nicer if they could have at least said their goodbyes.

 

Suddenly it occurred to him to check with the concierge and, much to his surprise, the door was locked from inside. So that meant Sherlock had not left. But then……wait, it could be the bathroom. Oh dear, how stupid he was, Sherlock could have been in the bathroom. He ran back inside the guest room and stumbled on something. Sherlock’s shoes! The clothes were all lying on a chair, where John had left them the night before.

 

_He couldn’t have left the flat naked and through the walls. He must be here. Why didn’t I look right into this room, silly, silly me._

 

Half a second later he found Sherlock. Not in the bathroom but on the other side of the bed, on the floor, half on the rug and half off it, still asleep.

 

“Goodness gracious,” he gasped, “This is just….”

 

He checked the man’s pulse, temperature, breathing pattern, heartbeat, pupils and realized his guest was in much better shape as compared to the night before. Satisfied, John shook him hard to wake him up.

 

Sherlock sprang to his feet and raised his hand, fist bunched, ready to punch John. “Whoa,” John said, “Is this how young men thank people nowadays?”

 

Sherlock blinked, memories of the previous night coming back to him. Color rose to his cheeks and he lowered his hand. Avoiding John’s eyes, he mumbled, “So very sorry. I was just a bit out of it.” He looked around and then back at John, “How did I end up here? Is this your house?”

 

“My flat,” John confirmed, “You fell asleep in the car.”

 

“Oh,” Sherlock bowed his head. He wished he remembered more. Did he bother this good man in some way? Oh dear, he was only in his boxers? Was he so indisposed that his host had to undress him? He wanted to say something, wanted to come up with a proper thank you speech, but words failed him and he stared at the floor with flaming cheeks.

 

John realized his embarrassment and quickly said, “Are you hungry? I have breakfast ready.”

 

***

 

There was complete silence as the two men ate. John watched as Sherlock sat at the kitchen table, lost in thoughts, and pushed his food around the plate after the first few bites. He wanted to ask him to eat more but as a doctor he was aware that force feeding a man who might have been on some heavy medication or prolonged slow-starvation could be quite dangerous. So he let Sherlock decide how much he wanted to fill his belly and asked him if he wanted more tea. Sherlock nodded and extended his cup, which John refilled to the brim.

 

“If you don’t mind sharing,” John said as he Sherlock sipped the tea, “How did you end up in that situation last night?”

 

“I know you must have a lot of questions,” Sherlock said, “Anyone would have. Maybe most people wouldn’t even agree to let me stay overnight in their place. But you did and I am very grateful. I think I owe you a few answers but please, I will only speak as much as my comfort allows me to. Don’t press for more.” When John agreed with a nod, he continued, “I had forgotten to bring my wallet with me when I left home. I realized only after I had eaten.”

 

“Why didn’t you call someone for help?”

 

“I don’t have a phone.”

 

“You don’t have a phone? I mean, in this age…..”

 

“It’s complicated.”

 

John took it as a sign of ‘I won’t answer beyond this point’ and changed subjects. “Okay, so tell me this. I couldn’t help but notice some needle marks and bruises on you, also the fact that you look malnourished and underfed. Are you in some kind of trouble? I have a good friend in the Scotland Yard, his name is Gregory Lestrade. He could help. Unless of course…..you have been a criminal yourself and would rather not dig things up.”

 

Sherlock looked at him with a start. “I AM NOT,” he said forcefully and immediately softened his voice, “Look Dr. Watson…”

 

“John, please.”

 

“Look John, I don’t want you to get involved in my hassles. I have to face my problems on my own. I just want to assure you that I am not a drug addict, not any longer, and I come from an affluent and respectable family. I have no criminal records and I am not on the run because I don’t get along with my family. I have no family left, which is why I am in big trouble. But as I said, I can sort this out on my own. After breakfast I’ll leave.”

 

John wanted to say ‘No don’t, you can stay here as long as you like’ but somehow he couldn’t say those words without making himself look horny and eager. So he stayed quiet for a long moment and muttered, “Very well then. I’ll drop you wherever you want to go.”

 

***

 

Sebastian Moran’s hypnotic blue eyes stared in love, awe and lust as his fiancé rode him hard. Jim was magnificent, his body was tight and taut like a whip, his movements stealthy and graceful as a feline’s, his charm equivalent to that of a nightingale singing melodious song of spring. As he bounced on Sebastian’s cock, his dark silky hairs bounced and fell all over his face and his smooth peaches and milk skin flushed a light pink. Arousal and afterglow suited him equally, making him look even more adorable than otherwise.

 

The colonel’s large hands roamed all over Jim’s slender torso, touching the sinew, skin and bones and memorizing every inch of him. God, he’d gladly disappear inside this man.

 

“Oh-oh-uh-uh-uhhhhh Sebbbyyyyy!” Jim screamed as his arousal peaked and his movements grew frantic. His perfect rhythm faltered and he began to shudder, subtle tremors moving up and down his thighs and calves, his hips jerking as his balls started to draw up. He was going to cum hard and all the tell-tale signs of his orgasm were evident on his pretty face. Sebastian watched mesmerized, his own arousal forgotten, as he watched Jim in the throes of his pleasure. His fiancé was so perfect, so very perfect, that he felt like the luckiest man on earth.

 

“Touch me,” Jim demanded.

 

“Yeah baby,” Sebastian began to jerk him off and thrust up at the same time.

 

“Christ!” Jim groaned.

 

“Yeah, cum for me babe, please, let me watch you cum,” Sebastian pleaded, feeling his own climax close in. Legendary as his controls were, he found himself severely compromised in that department ever since he had hooked up with Jim. One look at that man and he would get hard as a rock. One touch from him and he was ready to cum. One glimpse of Jim spilling his seed and Sebastian was sure his own orgasm would be triggered instantly.

 

“Oh fuck, Sebby!” Jim spilled his hot seed over Sebastian and slouched on top of him, tremors coursing through his body, Sebastian began to feel semen rush from his balls and gather at the head of his cock. Much as he wanted to fuck Jim into another orgasm, he wasn’t going to last.

 

“Fuck Jimmy I love you,” he rasped, followed by a string of curses as he came and came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Mormor connection is important for the storyline. I haven't kept them just because they are my OTP after Sheriarty! Just saying!!!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian gets a job - To find the runaway boy Sherlock Holmes

“Mmmmm,” Jim snuggled into Sebastian’s arms, dipping his finger into the semen streaked over his lover’s belly and chest and giving the blond man a taste, “Why are we awake so early?”

 

Sebastian licked his lips and kissed Jim’s temple, holding him close. “Because my darling, your soon to be husband has work to do. I wish I was a professor, then I’d have vacations. Right now I don’t seem to have anything that resembles even closely to a vacation.”

 

Jim looked at him through widened eyes and suddenly started to chuckle. Soon that chuckle turned into full-bodied rich laughter and Jim kept laughing and laughing, shaking all over from it. At first Sebastian was taken aback but soon he began to smile and, spurred on by his lover’s demeanor, started to laugh too. His shoulders shook and he kissed Jim again, feeling the smaller man’s lips brush against his nipple. “Heya little kitten,” he spoke in a deep baritone, slightly hoarse from the bolt of arousal that shot through his body when Jim’s tongue touched his nub, “What’s with laughing at your spouse huh? You’re not supposed to do that. Not nice.”

 

“I was never nice to you,” Jim said as he took breaths between more chuckling.

 

“I didn’t want you to be.”

 

“Oh? You sure about that?”

 

“I just like your wicked side too much to expect a change.”

 

“You don’t want me to change?”

 

“Never. I fell in love with this package and that’s how I intend for it to remain. Only fools try to change the person they fell in love with.”

 

Jim lay his head back down on Sebastian’s chest, smiling in a contented manner. “I should be so lucky-lucky-lucky ooooh,” he sang before his voice became serious again, “Are you really happy with the work you do? It’s dangerous and if you let your guard down even once it could have disastrous consequences. It involves odd hours, strange places, lots of traveling and often it doesn’t even allow you to take time off.”

 

“Or have a lie-in,” Sebastian winked.

 

“Or have a lie-in,” Jim agreed.

 

“You know my boss. He is a perfectionist. He wants me to be on time. Which reminds me I have to get up now.”

 

“Noooooo!”

 

“Jimmy love, I have to go sweetie. I’ll try to be back as soon as I can. Maybe no work this evening and we can watch a movie together. I’ll even cook your favorite Italian food for you, lasagna and tiramisu. What say?”

 

“Tell your boss your boyfriend needs you at home.”

 

Sebastian closed his eyes in bliss and cuddled Jim some more before he gently extricated himself from his lover’s clinging embrace and got out of bed. Jim pouted and rolled over to lie on his front, the sheets sliding downwards till most of his pert butt was exposed. “Oh no no no no,” Sebastian kissed his bottom sweetly and then covered it up, “These tricks and ploys are not going to work honey! I really have to go to work now! You stay in bed some more, I’ll prepare some breakfast for you on my way out, something simple and quick for this morning I’m afraid. As for telling my boss something, why don’t you do that for me?”

 

Jim pulled a pillow under his head and sank cheek down on to it. His eyes glowed like twin jewels as he quipped, “It’s all right. Do your duties.”

 

An hour later, Sebastian was on his way out when he met the housekeeper who was just entering through the front door. “Morning Colonel Moran,” she said, “Your car is here. Also, a message for you from Jeff. He was saying you need to call the Liverpool agent right away.”

 

Sebastian nodded and walked to the car, handing his laptop bag and a duffel bag to the chauffeur. He dialed a number and said, “I know Jeff, I’ll call him right away.”

 

When the car started to move, Sebastian turned to look at the balcony on the first floor. Jim was standing there sipping his morning tea. The man was in a short bathrobe that barely covered till his mid-thighs, his bed hair and ‘just fucked’ look causing him to appear even sexier than usual. “Horny little bastard,” Sebastian murmured with a fond smile, “He does this on purpose.” He raised his hand and waved at his fiancé, noticing a call coming in. Jim waved back.

 

The smile disappeared as soon as they were on the road. “This is shark,” he said curtly, “Shoot.”

 

“Cheetah here, with a new job boss,” the answer came from the ‘Liverpool agent’, “Simple enough and we get half a million upfront and another half a million once we are done.”

 

“Is that a non-refundable advance?”

 

“Yes, I negotiated that.”

 

“And the job?”

 

“To trace, find and return a young man who’s run away from his house. His name is William Sherlock Scott Holmes.”

 

***

 

“All right then,” John stopped the car, “We are here. Your friend’s house will be barely five minutes from here.”

 

Green eyes turned towards him, filled with gratitude and something else that John noticed but couldn’t really define. “I just wanted to say,” Sherlock pause, “Thank you very much for everything you did for me. Not many would do that for people they know, let alone a stranger.”

 

A sense of loss and loneliness gripped John at the thought that he would never see Sherlock again. He knew it was a silly thought to entertain, that this was just a passing meeting which had to end in something like this, but that didn’t stop him from feeling rather downbeat. John’s eyes grew sad but he kept up a brave smile as he extended his hand towards the lovely stranger, “Well, you don’t have to thank me really. You were no bother and I was actually happy to help. I hope you find the person you’re seeking….and…..um, in case you don’t find him or if there is…..ehm….any other way I can help, please don’t hesitate to call me.”

 

“Sure,” Sherlock said awkwardly.

 

He felt a strange ache building slowly in his chest. But he dismissed that as an after-effect of one of the earlier episodes when he had gotten into a fist fight with Walter’s henchmen. As he walked away slowly, a strong urge to turn and look at John coursed through his heart. His feet slowed down further but his brain asked him to focus on the task at hand. He had to find Victor’s brother, get in touch with Victor and fix Walter’s evil wagon. He couldn’t afford distractions and digressions right now.

 

But John was no distraction. He was a benefactor. Maybe he could at least call him and……oh shit, he hadn’t even taken John’s number. How was he supposed to call John? How silly of him!

 

Sherlock turned and quickly retraced his steps towards the spot where John had parked his car but instead of the copper colored Ford Endeavor, there stood a Japanese sports car. John had left by then.

 

“Always a day late and a pound short,” Sherlock snorted to himself and went looking for Jacob Trevor. 301 Wood Street was the address and it was opposite to a B & B establishment called ‘Kathy’s’. He had met Jacob a grand total of two times but they had gotten along reasonably well. Surely Jacob would help, or at least help him contact Victor.

 

It took him ten minutes to locate Wood Street and three minutes to find the address. It was a townhouse and Jacob could be on any of the floors. Sherlock entered the house and stood at the foyer, looking at the name plates on the wall.

 

His heart sank. No Jacob Trevor.

 

He lingered around for a moment before his instincts told him to check the flat that had no specific owner listed against it. Taking three steps at a time, he climbed to the second floor and rapped his knuckles against the door.

 

No answer came. He tried again, then again, before leaning against the wood and sniffing at the keyhole. Clearly nobody was at home and from the flat smelled (sawdust and musty residual odors), he deduced that the place had been empty for at least a few months.

 

“Excuse me, young man,” a female voice asked, “What do you think you are doing? Are you looking for someone?” Sherlock spun around and came face to face with a lady in her sixties or early seventies, with snow hair and pale blue eyes. She had a curious expression on her face but she didn’t display any signs of aggression or dislike that one would show towards a lurker or an intruder. Sherlock straightened his back and asked, “Yes ma’am, I was wondering if Mr. Jacob Trevor and his family still live here or not? I am a distant cousin and since I was in town I thought I’d drop by.”

 

“Oh I see. No, Jacob and Emily don’t live here anymore. They shifted three months ago.”

 

“Shifted?”

 

“Yes. Jacob got a job in Hungary and so did Emily. She was half-Hungarian right? She was pregnant with their first child and wanted to be closer to her mother…..”

 

“Do you have a forwarding address?”

 

She thought for a few moments and shook her head, “No, I am afraid not. I think even the concierge doesn’t have it because some of the magazines he subscribed to kept piling up outside his door instead of being redirected to a new address. You see, Emily was quite friendly but her husband was rather aloof. Never really spoke much to any of us. Nowadays the concept of postal mails are almost gone, people are connected through emails and all of that. So that’s why…..”

 

Sherlock began to feel giddy. “Is there any way to contact him? Maybe an email address?”

 

Her brows went up, “You said you’re a distant cousin, right? When was the last time you met or spoke to Jacob?”

 

Sensing that there was no further need to talk to her, Sherlock politely wished her a good day and walked down the stairs, gripping his hairs and pulling at them. Everything was going wrong. Nothing was working out in his favor.

 

_Tough times don’t last Sherlock but tough people do._

 

“What if I am not so tough,” he sighed, sitting down on the last step of the flight of stairs.

 

What were his options anyways?

 

If he went to the cops they would take the bookish approach to an investigation. They would summon Walter Dunne, who would no doubt have his lawyer, doctor and other referees ready to support him. Sherlock knew there was a high possibility that he would be dismissed as an addict with a drug-addled brain who didn’t know right from wrong and had frequent delusions about people and things. If he tried to evade Walter and run away he would not only lose out on his family fortune, he would face hardships like the evening before. Chased by waiters for not paying a bill and having to stay overnight at a stranger’s place for lack of money…….oh yes, that stranger, not a stranger anymore, John, Dr. John Watson.

 

He perked up a little. Yes, he could go back to John.

 

But how? Rheinus Street was ten miles away from this place. The other end of the city. Without any cash he would not be able to spend on transport. If he braved it on foot then he’s end up walking for at least six hours. Daunting task indeed but what else were his options? He couldn’t just hang around here and wait for someone who wouldn’t be back. He had nobody else to call or reach out to. He had no money, not even enough to buy a coca cola. He had to walk.

 

***

 

John had spent a strange day. While his work had kept him busy, he hadn’t been able to get Sherlock off his mind. That face, those eyes, those curly brown hairs, there was something about them that had him hooked.

 

John wondered whether Sherlock had managed to meet the person he was so eager to visit. Was that a boyfriend? Was that someone Sherlock fancied?

 

Unbeknownst to the younger man, he had slipped a hundred pound note into Sherlock’s pocket. Walking around London without a penny in his pocket had not proved to be a wise step for Sherlock and he had nearly ended up getting beaten by three men the previous night. No way was John going to allow him to get into that situation again, hence he had extended the furtive gesture. The only reason he hadn’t given it to Sherlock openly was because the latter didn’t seem to be the kind of person who’d happily accept charity.

 

As he drove, John listened to sad romantic songs on radio. He usually hated such songs but that evening they matched his mood and sentiments. His emotional state surprised him and he shook his head in disbelief, navigating the traffic and seeing Sherlock in every tall young man with curly hairs.

 

But the biggest surprise was waiting for him at home. As he turned the key in the door lock, he heard the familiar voice of Mrs. Hudson call out, “Hey John, someone is waiting for you here!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As trouble brews thicker, JohnLock grows closer!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock opens up to his 'Jawn'

“Someone waiting for me?” John was taken aback. Usually his friends, or his sister Harry, never waited at Mrs. Hudson’s while he was out. Harry had a key, as did Mike Stamford, and if anyone else came to see him they usually called him in advance to let him know they’d be there. In the event someone did turn up unannounced, they would wait in their car and call him from there rather than be hosted by his elderly neighbor.

 

“Yes,” Mrs. Hudson said, sounding excited, “You should have told me John.”

 

John was even more puzzled but Mrs. Hudson ushered him inside and took him straight to the spare bedroom where, much to John’s surprise and shock and happiness, Sherlock was fast asleep in PJ’s that clearly belonged to someone else. They were a bit short for him, a bit too large, and he looked adorably dorky in them as he lay curled up on his side. “He is such a sweet lad,” Mrs. Hudson gushed, “He told me so much about me, obviously things he had heard from you, and we had a pleasant chat. Poor boy was tired so I asked him to turn in. Gave him my husband’s PJ’s, since he had nothing to change into.”

 

She paused, laughed and added indulgently, “Well, Frank has been dead for years and his clothes really don’t need to be preserved. Sherlock can throw these away once he gets home, I mean your flat.”

 

“My flat?” John felt foolish. He was having trouble connecting the dots.

 

“Yeah, he is your boyfriend so naturally your home is his home.”

 

“My boyfriend? Who told you?”

 

“Oh come on John. Some things don’t need to be told.”

 

“Um…. _did you tell him that?”_

 

“Yeah. He blushed beetroot red at that. Okay then, wake him up and take him home. He has had dinner so you don’t need to worry about that. I have something for you as well. I cooked quail, there is some left for you too. Just put some fresh bread in the oven and enjoy it, with the salad I made.”

 

“Really Mrs. Hudson, this is…..”

 

She squeezed John’s arm, “Oh it’s no bother at all. I am thrilled to see someone in your life finally John. Admit it, you wanted someone just like him, didn’t you?”

 

_I do, but he isn’t mine, perhaps never will be._

 

“John?”

 

“Oh yes,” John quickly replied, “Yes of course.”

 

***

 

“I didn’t want to disturb you again but I had no choice,” Sherlock spoke in a low murmur, his deep voice sounding more baritone than ever, “The person I came here to meet, he-he is gone. I mean he left the country for work and won’t be back in a while, I presume. I didn’t know where else to go so I came back here. I won’t bother you for too long but if I can stay here for three or four days, I might be able to make arrangements elsewhere. I-I will arrange to compensate you for your trouble, for any costs you incur on me. It may take a little while but you will be compensated for your troubles, Dr. Watson.”

 

John tried to suppress his smile. _If only you knew how happy I am to see you again Sherlock….._

 

“There is no trouble here Sherlock, let’s make that clear,” he replied, “To be honest with you, I didn’t want you to leave so quickly. It seemed to me that you need some rest and medical attention and, as a doctor, I was willing to provide you with that. But you had to meet someone and it sounded fairly urgent, hence I didn’t stop you. But tell me something first, why did you walk all the way? Did you not check your pockets? I had slipped in a hundred pounds there, just in case you needed cash!”

 

Sherlock checked the pocket of his denim jacket and did a facepalm, “Oh God.”

 

John chuckled, “Next time, check.”

 

Sherlock tried to get up and winced, nearly doubling over.

 

John was on his feet in an instant, “What happened?”

 

“My feet are killing me.”

 

“That’s expected. Listen, get into bed. Let me check them okay?”

 

“Really, there is no need….”

 

“No but there is. I want you to be in the pink of health and that merits a proper checkup. That can happen at the hospital tomorrow but for now let me see what we can do for those sore feet and the achy-breaky legs. Don’t worry, I have finished my dinner and there’s still time for me to hit the sack. This isn’t any trouble at all. By the way, do you need a toothbrush and shaving kit?”

 

Sherlock nodded, looking uncomfortable, “Yes, if you have any spares.”

 

“As a matter of fact I do.”

 

Ten minutes later Sherlock was half-sitting, half-lying in bed while John sat beside him.

 

“Nothing serious at all, just the after effects of walking too much,” John explained after he had thoroughly examined Sherlock’s feet, “You have a couple of minor blisters and some stiff muscles. Your right ankle seems a little swollen, so I am assuming you twisted it while climbing steps or something. I’ll apply an ointment on the blisters and they’ll be gone by day after tomorrow. As for the swelling or the stiff muscles, I have a spray. Temporary relief is all they’d provide. If by tomorrow morning things aren’t better I will give you pain killers and perhaps a massage to loosen things up. But I have a feeling all you need is a solid twelve hours of sleep and a hot water bottle for the sore feet.”

 

Sherlock was unusually quiet.

 

“Hey,” John said, “All well?”

 

“I am not in the habit of accepting help like this,” Sherlock whispered.

 

“Then you must be in some kind of trouble,” John took the opportunity to ask the question, “Only if you trust me enough to share it…..”

 

“Problems don’t go away by sharing them with someone. I need to face them and solve them and I will.”

 

“I am sure you will. Okay, something else then, how did you know so much about Mrs. Hudson? She was saying you told her things….which she assumed you’d heard from me.”

 

Sherlock looked sheepish, “I was sitting outside your door, at the hallway, when she found me and took me in rather forcibly. I didn’t want to be a bother but she assured me that John’s boyfriend is always welcome. I was in fact surprised that I had been considered your boyfriend. But I didn’t correct her, because I had no context or background to this.”

 

It was John’s turn to blush. “Hey, I had said nothing to her. Believe me. ”

 

Sherlock shrugged, “That’s fine.”

 

“It’s true that she’s always looking for someone to pair me up with. That’s her holy mission.”

 

“Ah I see.”

 

“But I still don’t have my answer. If I had said nothing to you, how could you make her believe you knew a lot about her?”

 

“But I do,” Sherlock seemed to perk up, as of a fresh burst of energy was running through him, “I know she was once a bar dancer who fell in love with a gang lord and became his third wife. Later she had the same gang lord executed for double murder because she was fed up of his cheating, scheming, lying ways. She was the chief witness in that case and that arse hole husband of hers was dragged away screaming and cursing at her. Since then she has been happier, leading the single life with enough money and a predictable daily routine. She had several friends and has a reasonably good social life but she regrets not having children.”

 

John’s jaw dropped and he managed to let out only one word, “How?”

 

Sherlock looked proud, “It is called deductive reasoning. My dad taught me and my elder brother. See, all of us see things but we often don’t observe them close enough. And even when we observe, we don’t use our brains to analyze and interpret the signals they give us. For example, she likes putting photographs on the walls but I saw no pictures of her husband so I knew he had fallen out of favor with her even before he died. I saw a little plaque presented to her for showing extraordinary courage in societal service. Signed by a judge, hence it’s evident she was a key witness to some case. Then I saw some of her husband’s personal items and knew that he was involved in a life of crime. You know, guns, bullets, certain types of knives.”

 

“Unbelievable. How did you know he was dragged off kicking and screaming?”

 

“The television was on and when a character in a mini-series did the same she mentioned that this was the last image she had of her own husband, Frank. I just put two and two together.”

 

“And the daily routine, the friends, the children she never had?”

 

“Easy. She was noting her ‘things to do’ and they were simplest of things like watering plants, getting the milk, learning how to bake a black forest cake, cleaning the silverware. She likes routine, a routine she takes comfort in. In her husband’s world, which she shared for decades, that was missing. She has many friends, as one can see from the number of birthday cards she received last week on her birthday. Children, well, you should have realized that too since she treats you like a son and today she adopted me as well.”

 

John was forced to smile, “Gosh, you are really intelligent. This is a remarkable quality.”

 

“You didn’t ask me how I knew she was a bar dancer?”

 

“Oh yeah I didn’t. How?”

 

“She was dancing while vacuuming the carpet. Those moves…..”

 

John laughed out loud, “Gosh, I could never digest that. Good ole Hudders, a bar dancer!!! You are very good with this Sherlock. I can imagine how useful this quality can be, to anyone.”

 

Sherlock’s face fell, “It wasn’t useful to me.”

 

John didn’t realize he was massaging Sherlock’s calves. Sherlock hadn’t noticed it either. The doctor gave his young guest a long, keen look filled with questions.

 

Sherlock exhaled and when he finally held John’s gaze there was a quiet surrender as well as a subtle determination in them. “You have done more than enough for me John, more than enough to earn this knowledge which I was purposefully holding back from you. The only reason I did that was because I didn’t want a stranger to be burdened with my sorrows or challenges. But it seems our association might be for a while longer and you deserve to know why someone like me is, homeless, penniless, helpless. I will tell you everything.”

 

John nodded, “It will be my secret to guard, should you not wish for it to be revealed to anyone. If we need to involve someone to help you, I’ll ensure it’s somebody trustworthy and capable.”

 

“Thanks John.”

 

“Go on.”

 

Sherlock’s feet were on John’s lap now and the two men had still not noticed. The intimacy felt so natural, so normal, that none of them felt awkward or wary of it. Sherlock sat pressed against the good doctor who willingly moved closer without realizing it. It was a show of silent support, of solidarity and trust.

 

“My dad and mum came from money but were two hardworking, sensible and simple people. They never showed off, never spent more than necessary and worked hard on building the funds rather than live off it. My dad built on his business, my mum assisted him with it and also taught at a college, and they brought up my elder brother Mycroft and I with every possible care and privilege due to us. The best schools, the best birthday parties, the best vacations, the best dinner table conversations, the best hugs and love.”

 

“Sounds great,” John said, “You loved them?”

 

“Yes. Though I was never a demonstrative child and never told them as much. The only time I confessed to my feelings was when their coffins were lowered into their graves.”

 

“Oh God. I am so sorry.”

 

“Yeah, I am sorry too. I knew they were in danger but I didn’t do enough to stop it.”

 

“Sherlock, you lost me there.”

 

“One day, in our lives, entered a thundercloud named Walter Dunne.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me longer than I thought to post this. I am guilty of trying to complete 'Just a year' before my muse deserts me.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John makes up his mind to help Sherlock while Sherlock makes up his mind to cook breakfast and inadvertently sets off the fire alarm

“Walter was an ambitious man, notoriously manipulative and selfish. The moment he entered my dad’s service I knew something was wrong. He alienated all my dad’s faithful employees and had them thrown out. He started influencing my father to take the wrong decisions. He filled my mum’s ears with poison about her first born, Mycroft. He even started to take decisions on behalf of my parents and didn’t even consult them about it. I noticed it all, with my powers of observation I saw it happen and knew where things were going wrong.”

 

John took Sherlock’s hand, “You didn’t do anything about it?”

 

The deep voice wavered a bit. “No, I was young and not so astute. I was intelligent but not wise. I was too wrapped up in my youthful indulgences to notice the wide chasm growing between dad and Mycroft or how Mycroft was beginning to talk back to mummy. You know, mummy always loved him more than anyone else, including me, and when he started to argue and bicker with her she was broken hearted. Then, one fine day, Mycroft disappeared. We tried hard but nobody could track him down. Mum and dad never recovered from that shock and loss and slowly they grew less and less interested in work and other material pursuits. I saw the decay of my family and kept telling my dad to get rid of Walter. But it was too late.”

 

“Late?” John whispered, almost afraid to ask, “How?”

 

“They died in a road mishap where there was no such situation present that could cause an accident. The brakes failed and the car landed sixty feet down in a gorge. Both of them were killed instantly. It was not a particularly dangerous curve, nor were they speeding and there was no other motorist who had gotten in their way. I smelled a rat instantly but the grief had overwhelmed me so much that I started to…..”

 

Sherlock’s voice sounded really small when he uttered the next word, “Using.”

 

John had to fight hard to keep the expression of shock off his face. Drug addict? This beautiful boy? God, no.

 

“I screamed hoarse about how it was evident that someone had killed my parents, I listed down points and tried to explain, but nobody believed me. I used to do recreational drugs before but this time I used it seriously. The more they refused to help me investigate my parents’ deaths, the more desperate I got. Nearly overdosed and was put in rehab. Walter took full advantage of this and when I came out, he kept me under house arrest.”

 

“Walter?” John startled, “Your dad’s employee?”

 

“He had his power of attorney,” Sherlock sighed, “He had proved to the world that I was not capable of handling myself, an addict who could relapse soon, a man destroyed by the disappearance of his brother and the sudden death of his parents.”

 

John felt like strangling that man. He realized he could kill anyone who harmed Sherlock, just using his bare hands he could end their lives. His nostrils flared as Sherlock described the horrors of those months when Walter had repeatedly administered drugs into his system to make him test positive, regularly given him meds that made him disoriented and unfocussed, kept him locked up in a room and threatened to destroy him completely if he didn’t agree to marry Walter and hand over his inheritance to him.

 

“So is that why you ran away?” John asked at the end of the story.

 

Sherlock nodded and slid down in bed, murmuring ‘I am so tired’. It was then that he realized he was half-lying on John, his feet being massaged by the doctor and boy, did it feel good! Suddenly he felt sleepy, after a long time he didn’t need drugs to sleep, just those touches. He felt secure, loved, protected. While a male part inside his soul refused to be needy, another bigger part enjoyed the ministrations of the good doctor. His instincts told him he had found a person whom he could trust, someone who wouldn’t take advantage of him even in this open, vulnerable stage.

 

“I….I am….John….”

 

“Shhhh, it’s okay. Go to sleep.”

 

Sherlock turned his head and John did the same, at the very exact same moment. Suddenly their lips were inches apart. Their eyes locked too, green meeting brown, and everything else in the world disappeared for the two men. Sherlock forgot his pains and troubles, John his inhibitions and loneliness. For that moment they were together, they had each other, there was this unspoken bond between them that throbbed voluptuously in the air.

 

“Jawn….”

 

“Sherlock….”

 

“I….I am sorry but….”

 

“Yes, tell me, anything you want.”

 

Sherlock swallowed, “Will you stay here till I fall asleep.”

 

A simple request. John had expected more but not pegged his hopes on anything happening further to this. Sherlock was not in a position to offer anything right now. His emotional catharsis had worn his out and he needed his rest.

 

Much as he wanted this, he knew better than to take advantage of a very lonely, very troubled young man. He waited till Sherlock’s eyes had fluttered shut before he whispered.

 

“I will.”

 

***

 

John woke up to the sound of the fire alarm in his flat.

 

“Oh shit, Sherlock,” he gasped and jumped out of bed. He had overslept, the clock on his bedside table said it was nearly nine, but John hardly bothered about the time. His head was filled with worries about Sherlock and his safety. If the flat was on fire, he would gladly get Sherlock out first. “Sherlock,” he shouted as he flung open the door and ran outside, “Sherlock, answer me man, where the hell are you?” He coughed as he saw smoke billowing out of the kitchen and rushed inside there.

 

A breath of relief left him just as a small smile of amusement appeared on his face. Sherlock was sitting on the kitchen floor, looking rather embarrassed and petrified. There was a frying pan on the stovetop and flames rose from it, smoke pouring out from all directions. A failed cooking attempt then, John deduced, and quickly flung open the windows. He turned on the exhaust and doused the flame using his handy little extinguisher, some of the foam flying off in the air and landing around them.

 

“I am sorry,” Sherlock said in a small voice, “I was trying to cook.”

 

John started cleaning up without a word of complaint.

 

“I didn’t mean to….” Sherlock added sheepishly. He took John’s proffered hand and stood up on his feet.

 

“I know you didn’t. Have you cooked before?”

 

“Errm….no!”

 

“This cooking spray is inflammable and should be used in limited quantity. On top of it you used the largest burner and put the flame at the highest. Oh well, what was in the frying pan before it all burned down?”

 

“Sausages.”

 

“And this liquid?”

 

“Coffee.”

 

“I see. It must have spilled while….”

 

“No, it didn’t spill. I tried to douse the fire with it. It’s liquid after all but then it was hot, I scalded myself while trying to…..”

 

“I’ll teach you how to cook,” John assured him gently, “But we can do that later someday. For now, just sit at the kitchen table and assist me when I ask. I’ll clean up and make something simple for us. Do you know how to brew tea?” When Sherlock nodded enthusiastically, John pointed at the kettle and the jar of fine Darjeeling. “Go on,” he encouraged, “You can brew the tea for us while I make us some pancakes. I hope you like pancakes Sherlock.”

 

“Yes I do, very much indeed,” Sherlock replied. With some directions from John he did manage to brew the tea rather nicely and the burned smell in the kitchen was soon replaced by the whiff of the expensive tea leaves and the sweet scent of the maple syrup John had taken out. But a bit of a mishap was still due. When John asked Sherlock to check if the water he had set to boil in a sauce pan was hot enough so he could roll the eggs into it, Sherlock went over and suddenly let out a sharp yelp. He stepped back in a hurry, wincing and holding his right hand with his left one. “Ow-ow-owwww,” he went, shaking the hand he had burned.

 

“Christ,” John grabbed his hand and held it under running water, “How?”

 

“Ohhh….yeah that’s better, you-you asked me to,” Sherlock was still in pain and it was evident from the way his face scrunched up now and then.

 

“I asked you to check of the water was boiling. I didn’t ask you to dip your finger in the water.”

 

“How else do I know if the water is hot enough? It wasn’t exactly boiling.”

 

“Jesus. You really don’t know any of this, do you?”

 

“Is that a bad thing?”

 

John smiled indulgently and patted the younger man on the head. “No,” he said fondly, “Not a bad thing at all.”

 

Later, as they sat down for breakfast, John felt a sense of domestic bliss that he had only read or heard about in books and movies. Having someone to share his life and his flat with, someone he could have breakfast with, someone who was as eager to do something for him as he was eager to do something for them, it was a magical experience. Words failed him and he chose silence instead, watching Sherlock through the corner of his eyes as the younger man once again pushed his food around.

 

“Not hungry?” He asked.

 

“I can’t eat much. Mostly I eat less than most people my age.”

 

“Explains why you’re so bony.”

 

Sherlock looked hurt, “Bony.”

 

“Uh no, no no no no,” John quickly shook his head and moved his hands to show he didn’t mean it that way, “You’re gorgeous and sexy, I mean you’re very cute, no not really cute but handsome. Okay Sherlock, please accept one major flaw in my character. I am not much of a romantic or even poetic when it comes to praising someone. Words don’t flow easily off my tongue and I end up saying something and meaning something else. I just meant to say that you’re rail thin, you have been slow starved and drugged up and it might be a better idea to eat more food and rest properly to regain your strength. If you’re going to fight this battle you need to be in good, solid health.”

 

A look of relief and joy came over the boyish face and Sherlock pushed more food into his mouth.

 

“Good boy,” John said, resuming his own breakfast.

 

The bell suddenly rang.

 

“Oh, it’s nearly ten already,” John checked the kitchen clock, doing a facepalm as he did so, “I forgot all about this, damn it. My colleague Mike Stamford was supposed to hitch a ride with me today so he said he’d drop by and we would get to the hospital together. Stay here and finish your meal. I’ll just let him in and then go get dressed for work. Don’t worry he’s a very nice fellow. You will get along with him.”

 

“What will you say?” Sherlock asked.

 

John stopped half way towards the door. “Say what?”

 

“Who am I?”

 

“Um…..I will tell him the truth. Or else he will read right through my lie.”

 

“Okay. But will he…..”

 

“Never. He is a good man. You can trust him as much as you trust me.”

 

 _Yes I trust you John. I have read as much into you as I read into others and I know you are a good man, a kind and honest man who is reliable and rock-solid._ Sherlock sipped his tea and watched John answer the door, a little grin playing on his lips.

 

The next moment Mike Stamford burst into the apartment. “You’re not even ready and here I was thinking I am late…..ehm….what…..John, you never told me you are living with someone?”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mrs. Hudson to the rescue

“This is Sherlock,” John introduced the two men who stared at each other, “He is my house guest, not my live-in. Sherlock this is Mike, my colleague. I am a neurosurgeon and he is a cardiac surgeon.”

 

Mike Stamford gave Sherlock a look of appraisal and seemed quite enthralled by the young man’s beauty. Waggling his brows at his friend he quipped, “So they all say Johnny boy.”

 

“Um, give us a few minutes Sherlock,” John said and dragged Mike into the bedroom. The moment the door closed Mike’s eyes, already round as saucers, went even wider. “Oh man, you turned out to be such a secretive sassy bastard Dr. Watson,” Mike quipped, grinning from ear to ear, “I think I have seen him somewhere. Is he a model or some boy band member? Even though I am straight I could barely take my eyes off your latest conquest. From calling yourself a forced bachelor whose mistress is his work to hiding this prized creature in your flat, you have come a long way indeed. So, when were you planning to introduce him to us buddies huh?”

 

“Never.”

 

“Never? Why?”

 

“He is NOT my boyfriend Mikey. Just hear me out first.”

 

“Okay, what is it that I still don’t know pal?”

 

John quickly gave Mike a full account of the events of the past thirty-six hours and also a brief recap of the story Sherlock had shared with him. The more Mike listened, the deeper his frown got. Finally he said, “So he is a poor lost rich boy who needs help from the big bad wolves out to get him? So what are you now? The charming prince in his shining armor? You do realize that you’re putting yourself in danger too…..damn it, I can’t remember where I have seen him.”

 

“You couldn’t have. You just met him. As for the dangers I am putting myself into, yes, I am fully aware,” John confirmed.

 

“Still you want to do this? Give it a thought John, those people he mentioned can do anything to get their hands on those pounds.”

 

“Yes, I want to do this, the more I think about it the more I want to help him. Trust me Mike, even I have no idea why I’m going out of the way for this boy. But I do want to help him, no matter what it takes.”

 

Mike suddenly clutched at John’s arm, “John I remember where I have seen him. Do you subscribe to any newspaper?”

 

“No, I usually read them at the hospital because Barts orders almost twenty different ones. But why do you ask?”

 

“Because I think I remember where I had seen him. I just caught a fleeting glimpse of that photograph but the face is so unique that one glimpse is enough to identify him later. My friend, I saw your Sherlock’s photograph in the ‘missing persons’ column, with a handsome price for whoever brings him back ‘home’ safely. I think the price is to the tune of a million quid or something close to that.”

 

John gave him a disbelieving look which prompted Mike to say, “Come with me, come downstairs and take a look at the ad in the paper. There is a magazine and newspaper stand down the road and I am sure there will be a copy of the ‘London Times’ on sale right now. Take a look at it yourself so you know what I am talking about.” He grabbed John’s hand before the neurosurgeon could do anything and dragged him out of the flat. Within minutes they were at the newspaper kiosk, out of breath and panting, and Mike gave the seller the money and grabbed the paper.

 

“Oh Christ,” John gasped when he saw the ad.

 

“See,” Mike said, “I told you.”

 

John read the ad.

 

_Man missing since two days - Full name William Sherlock Scott Holmes, age 21, height 181 cms, complexion fair, eyes blue-green, hairs curly and dark brown, has a scar on the palm of his right hand. Has psychiatric issues and can be dangerous if medical treatment is discontinued. Kindly help us save his life by informing us of his whereabouts. Cash reward of a hundred thousand pounds for anyone who provides correct information and one million pounds if you are able to bring him in unharmed._

 

The address was of a small village but the name of the person who had posted this ad was not given. Instead information was supposed to be given on a specific email ID. A trust’s name and information was also provided, but no names of any individuals had been mentioned anywhere.

 

“John,” Mike pointed, “The ad is out in several papers.”

 

“So I see,” John said, lines forming on his forehead as he pondered over things.

 

“You do realize what you’ve let into your home, don’t you?”

 

“What do you mean Mike?”

 

“See, the boy is clearly unstable and……”

 

“What makes you think he’s unstable? You have only just met him.”

 

“Well, from what you told me…..he has run away from home, suffered some terrible losses, had a drug problem and went into rehab but then relapsed, his sense of rationality and logic must have taken a sound beating due to these incidents. How far can you rely on his words? What if he’s lying or if he’s delusional and can’t differentiate between reality and his delusions?”

 

John shook his head and started walking back home. “My dear Mike, you are behaving like a proper doctor today. You are looking at what’s black and white, not the grey area in between. That’s where most details get lost. For example, why is it that Sherlock is mentioned as someone ‘disturbed’ and ‘unstable’. Do you need to mention these things in such detail to locate a person? Nope. You only need to announce a cash reward and express your concerns about the missing person’s wellbeing. I didn’t see the concern, only an excuse thrown on our faces about Sherlock being ‘mad’. Isn’t that true?”

 

“Jesus Christ,” Mike said, “You are right.”

 

“They’re playing safe. But why?”

 

“Only because they have something to hide?”

 

“Bingo.”

 

“John…..Sherlock is in danger.”

 

“I told you. He is. Serious danger. Do you realize how many people will see this ad and start targeting him for financial gains? Anyone who loves and cares about a missing person will go to the cops. They won’t put an ad in the papers about them and put them at risk. Believe me, when Sherlock told me the horror stories of his past I believed him but there was a niggling doubt in my mind that I was believing only one side of the story. Now I am convinced, especially after seeing this ad, that every word he said was true.”

 

Mike Stamford stopped in his tracks just before they were about to enter the flat. “I think we need to get him away from here. The ads are mostly in newspapers that are popular in London. Maybe we should get him away somewhere else, Scotland perhaps?”

 

“We have to do that,” John said, “But first, I have to talk to Sherlock. See, I did see a bit of whims, some eccentricities and a dollop of childishness in him. But no madness, lack of stability or craziness in him. I also checked on him, he is not an addict. Not anymore. We can trust him.”

 

“I trust you John,” Mike smiled.

 

“Then will you help?” John asked hopefully.

 

“Anytime,” Mike said with a big grin.

 

***

 

Sherlock felt happier than he had felt in a long time. He smiled without inhibitions, breathed without feeling anxious, moved like a man without a care. John had taught him how to vacuum and operate the washing machine. He was determined to earn his keep with the good doctor and now with John assuring him of his support and help in getting Walter behind bars, he felt all the more compelled to give the man something in return. He would clean the house and do the laundry. He was a fast learner, he could do it, he knew that.

 

“That’s it,” he stared in satisfaction at the flat once he had finished the vacuuming and putting things back in their place (John had shown him of course), “Now to water the plants.”

 

A knock on the door brought a big smile to his face. Maybe John was back early, maybe John missed him, maybe John just wanted to check on him during his lunch hour, whatever it was it had to be John. The doctor had told him nobody called on him during the day and as long as Sherlock stayed inside the house he was absolutely safe. Whistling a tune merrily he walked to the door and unwittingly yanked it open before checking through the viewfinder. To his surprise a woman in her early forties stood there, just as taken aback as Sherlock was.

 

“Hey,” she said.

 

_Bottle blonde, not a natural one. Has had breast implants recently. Married at least twice, has at least two kids, stays up late at night and has a mild drinking problem. She can be gossipy and bitchy because she had issues as a kid, thanks to maybe a malicious and unkind parent. Recently been to a supermarket, works from home and exercises for long hours. Is obsessed with staying young._

 

“Hello,” Sherlock said stiffly.

 

“I didn’t realize Dr Watson had a guest.”

 

“Maybe you were not supposed to.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“I can figure out you aren’t exactly someone he socializes with.”

 

“Oh, yes, you are right. He doesn’t.”

 

“Um….the purpose of your visit?”

 

“I heard the vacuum cleaner and thought Dr. Watson was in. I was hoping if he has some wine.”

 

“Wine???”

 

“For cooking. I am out of it and am cooking for some guests, can’t go out because the baby has a cold and can’t be moved too much….anyways…..if there is no wine then maybe I can do with a bit of vinegar….”

 

She left as abruptly as she had arrived and left Sherlock staring after her curiously. Something seemed off about this person and his powers of observation, his ability to deduce a person’s background and situation from a mere glimpse of them, his instincts told him this woman was trouble. She was trying to look years younger than she was, she was lying through her teeth about the wine (Sherlock was sure she needed to drink it rather than cook with it), she also seemed to be in financial problems and there was something totally weird about her behavior when she left suddenly. It all added up to trouble.

 

“Sherlock?”

 

Sherlock jumped, “Mrs. Hudson…..??”

 

“Yeah, get inside the flat.”

 

“Yeah, sure.”

 

She literally pushed him inside and slammed the door behind them. “Listen,” she said, looking him straight in the eye, “I don’t know where you come from and how John and you got together but I saw this in the morning,” she showed him a newspaper which made him swallow and sigh in frustration, “And I was totally convinced that you were in real trouble and John has been a total gentleman and is trying to help you. I expected nothing less from a man like him.”

 

Sherlock was pleasantly surprised and it showed on his face.

 

“Now listen, the woman you met will cause trouble. You have to get out of here quickly, okay?”

 

“I have nowhere to go.”

 

“Yes you do.”

 

“John plans to get me out of the city but this will take time. He has to make arrangements.”

 

“Yes, that’s fine. But right now you have somewhere else you can hide.”

 

Sherlock gave her a quizzical look.

 

“My place,” she confirmed with a fond smile.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock in fresh trouble as Sebastian joins the manhunt for him

Sebastian had just finished an assignment but the results had not proved to be very positive. Not many knew that he worked for a criminal mastermind who preferred to be nameless, faceless, like a phantom who could be felt but never seen. The job gave him all that he missed from the army days, a sense of thrill, command, control, leveraging his sniper skills, his ability to carry out heists and attacks. It didn’t give him medals but it gave him oodles of money. His target was to make so much money that by the time he turned forty, he’d kill his boss and move somewhere in United States with his darling Jim.

 

A cattle ranch, a stud farm, a beautiful farmhouse, plenty of cornfields and cotton fields, a huge kitchen garden, a manmade lake inside his property, a bunch of ranch hands and sophisticated farm machinery. He had all the plans in his head and even acquired property in New Mexico.

 

Ten more years to go and he would end this life and start a new one. Maybe even sooner. But yes, he had to get rid of his boss or else both he and Jim would be fearing for their lives forever. That man never allowed anyone to escape, so the only way out was to end things. Perhaps even fake his own death so all those who worked with him would bury his ghost and never look for him again. But there should be plenty of money for the rest of their lives, at least a billion or more. He had been brought up on a shoestring budget and didn’t want to lack funds or beg for funds, ever again.

 

“Boss,” one of his men entered the room.

 

“Yes?”

 

“The boss wasn’t happy that we didn’t manage to extract the entire ransom.”

 

“Christ’s sake, the man is broke. We have nothing more to take from him just as he has nothing more to give.”

 

“The boss isn’t listening. He wants the books to tally. Job accepted vs cash inflow.”

 

“Tom, I know you are our book keeper and the boss gives you grief often, even for a few quid. But how am I supposed to extract any more funds from a dead man?”

 

Tom sighed, “I doubt any of us can tell the boss that. Maybe we can arrange the funds from elsewhere. Like if we pool money and add it to the coffers.”

 

“You have been working with us for years Tommy,” Sebastian got up and started pacing about, “You know pretty well the chief will get to know if we do this and he hates lies. He will pull our tongues out and create new soles for one of his million pairs of shoes.”

 

Tom looked lost for words. He was running out of options.

 

“Unless we use that option,” Sebastian suddenly commented, tapping his chin.

 

“Which one colonel?” Tom looked interested.

 

“Remember the job cheetah gave us?” Sebastian said, pulling out his tablet and looking through his notes, “I maintain a log of all requests that come in, even the ones we deprioritize or refuse, just in case we have to take them up later. We were supposed to help trace a young man who’d escaped from his house, some nutcase whose family was willing to give us a million dollars to find him. We could take up that case, which I hadn’t said a conclusive yes to, and fill in the deficit. That is one job the boss doesn’t know about and I don’t suppose we will need any special agents or aides to do it. So the chief will never know.”

 

“Good idea.”

 

“Isn’t it?”

 

“Except that there is one problem.”

 

“What is that now?”

 

“The deficit is for five million, not one. They wanted to pay us one for the job.”

 

“You don’t read newspapers, do ya?”

 

Tom gave him a startled look, “No, why?”

 

Sebastian picked up a newspaper and pointed to the fourth page. “Look at this ad for a missing man,” he showed Tom, “This is the same William Sherlock Scott Holmes that this party was looking for and I can assure you they’re not his family. I did some investigations, it’s a wealthy household and they can afford more. They’re also desperate because they have announced a million for anyone who brings him home and a hundred grand for anybody who gives accurate and timely information.”

 

“By Jove! That’s true.”

 

“Then they need to pay us five million quid to do this. We are not just ‘anybody’, are we?”

 

Tom grinned crookedly from ear to ear and shook his head, “Of course not!”

 

***

 

“I found out Mike,” John said excitedly.

 

“What did you find? The Golden canyon?”

 

Mike Stamford’s jovial response didn’t meet with the usual laughter from John Watson. Instead the neurosurgeon got more serious as he pulled his chair closer to his friend’s and whispered in a low voice so nobody could hear. “My aunt Kelly stays there and she and I get on like a house on fire. Though we meet barely twice a year, we keep in touch through good fashioned snail mail or gifts, on special days like anniversaries and Christmas, Easter and birthdays. She can hide Sherlock for a few days while things calm down here.”

 

“All right John, let me understand this properly,” Mike poured them both some coffee and leaned back in his chair, “You mean to tell me that sending Sherlock away to Edinburgh to stay with your old aunt is going to solve this problem? You think by hiding him for a few days will ensure his safety? This thing will calm down and people would forget? No way man! There is a million quid in question here and as long as someone doesn’t take an ad out and mention clearly that the offer is off or the boy is back home, people would remember it and keep hunting him down. It would take months, perhaps years for people to forget.”

 

“Then we need to ensure that Walter Dunne fellow is behind the bars, for all his crimes.”

 

“What? Are we amateur detectives now?”

 

“Not yet. But we could be.”

 

“How? John let’s be practical. Let’s smuggle him to Ireland and then find a way to send him farther away from England. But if we do that, how will he sustain? He has no money.”

 

“We can’t just ask him to run away,” John said, “That money belongs to him and letting some greedy murdering bastard enjoy that ill-gotten wealth is a very wrong thing to do. Our only choice is to find a chink in Walter’s armor and nail him through that. He needs to be arrested.”

 

“Greg Lestrade’s help needed?”

 

“Not right away. Not until Sherlock has a clean bill of mental and physical health and we have solid proof of Walter’s wrongdoings. Greg can’t act only on suspicion. Or else Walter will employ a good lawyer and bail out in no time.”

 

Mike Stamford sipped his coffee and winced, “It’s cold. Just like the trail of Mr. and Mrs. Holmes’ murder went cold right under Sherlock’s nose. We are up against a very cunning and formidable enemy John.”

 

“That’s half the fun,” John winked.

 

“And the other half?” Mike waggled his brows.

 

“The other half is in saving Sherlock.”

 

“John, do this noble deed if you must but don’t fall in love. At least, not yet.”

 

***

 

John Watson thought he’d have a heart attack any moment. The moment he had stepped out of the car, carrying several packets of clothes and shoes and other essential items for Sherlock, he came nose to nose with one of the neighbors whom he strongly abhorred. Adrianne Da Silva, a half-Brazilian, half-Welsh woman who lived on the same floor as him and Mrs. Hudson and one more neighbor. She was infamous in the building for being an alcoholic, an escort and a drug peddler with a list of seedy boyfriends and lovers. She was frequently out of money and known to shoplift or lift things from the houses of neighbors she visited.

 

“Adrianne,” he said politely and tried to walk away.

 

She caught his arm and stopped him. He promptly shrugged off her arm but she didn’t relent or walk away, offended. Instead she placed her hand on his shoulder and stood face to face with him, her pale blue eyes searching his face for something, a sudden desire to thrust herself into his way which baffled him completely. She knew he was into men, she knew he detested her, then why was she trying to stumble into his world. “Excuse me but I have something urgent to take care of, I have to go now,” he insisted as he tried to step past her without meeting her eyes again.

 

She laughed, “You live alone? What could be so urgent?”

 

“Yes I do live alone but I may have an important email to send, a pile of laundry to be done, a flat that needs vacuuming, dinner to be made for a few people coming over for dinner. One needn’t be living with somebody to stay busy.”

 

“Ahhh so nobody lives with you, right?”

 

John somehow didn’t like the tone. He decided not to indulge her with any more replies.

 

“I really must go, good night,” he said curtly and walked off, muttering under his breath. Maybe she hadn’t got a new customer to buy her a drink or pay for her next boob job. But she should have known better than to try her luck with a gay man. It was a waste of time for them both.

 

As he walked away, Adrianne stood there and lit a cigarette, eyes on the doctor’s retreating figure. “Right,” she said with a laugh, “Nobody lives with you and yet when I knock there is a handsome cute virginal youngster answering the door in clothes that are too short for him. Evidently those were yours. And you’re carrying bags and bags of shopping, as if you need to create a new wardrobe for them.”

 

She brandished the newspaper and traced her long nails over the photograph in it. “Okay so this is where the mad kid is being sheltered huh? I guess I can get that hundred grand and finally make it to Paris to start a new life there. I never liked the Brits anyways.”

 

***

 

John’s heart nearly stopped when he entered the flat and found it pitch dark. It was empty and there were no signs of Sherlock anywhere. He could feel the emptiness in the silence and darkness that filled the space. He had lived alone long enough to know how that felt.

 

But then where was Sherlock? Did he act like a stubborn fool and go looking for a friend or someone else he knew? Did he not trust John enough to allow him to help? Did that mean Sherlock was in trouble or about to get into trouble because many on the streets of London would easily recognize him and most of those people would do anything to get their hands on a million pounds. “Fuck,” John searched every room by habit before he sat down on the couch, crestfallen, the packets scattered around his feet and totally neglected.

 

That was when he noticed that the flat was unusually clean and dust-free and the kitchen had a nice tangerine odor. He saw clothes half out of the washing machine, now drier than before but still slightly damp from the earlier wash. That meant Sherlock was as good as his word and was doing his bit to help inside the house while John was out working and finding a way for him to escape to another town. A new kind of fear rose in him as this new realization dawned in. If it was not a planned departure but a sudden one, did that mean someone had kidnapped him?

 

“Fuck, that bitch,” John’s temper flew off the handle.

 

Yes, she was the one who had done this or at least contributed to it. Those statements about John living alone etc. were all part of her ploy to mock him. She had achieved what she had set out for, she had provided information about poor Sherlock’s location and must have even laughed all the way to her bank afterwards. But it still bewildered him that she would walk up to him and question him so openly, giving him every hint possible about her involvement. Why would she do that?

 

“Greg Lestrade,” John suddenly exclaimed loud, “I need to call him, proof or no proof.”

 

“No need yet John.”

 

John rushed to the doorway, “Mrs. Hudson did you see my…..”

 

“Of course,” she said with a knowing smile, “At my place. Watch it, don’t trip over the carpet.”

 

Uncaring about consequences and eager to see Sherlock, John ran into Mrs. Hudson’s flat. There, seated on a couch with hot cocoa and a book was Sherlock who promptly exclaimed ‘John!’ The next moment John grabbed him and wrapped him in the biggest bear hug ever.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian finds out Sherlock is with John

Sherlock had often seen hugs being exchanged between people. Children and parents, siblings, lovers, but he had never felt the need to receive or give one. At best he found it as a display of too much emotion, at worst he assumed it was unhygienic. But when John rushed towards him with his arms outstretched, he found himself quite excited to be wrapped into that warm, affectionate clinch.

 

He blinked with surprise first and then his lips curled into a smile.

 

At first he had nearly lost his balance and toppled backwards. He hadn’t expected the hug to be so forceful and so very intense. But it didn’t feel bad at all, it felt reassuring and caring and for the first time in several hours he felt safe again. There was something about John that always made him feel safe and protected, as if the moment that man arrived his woes were half over. One of his arms stretched backward initially, to support himself and John’s weight on him, but as the hug continued he found himself wrapped his arms around the shorter man as well. At first he was a little awkward but things grew on him and he melted into that embrace.

 

Mrs. Hudson stood watching them, a ‘I told you so’ grin over her delighted face.

 

“Don’t you two make a cute pair, a really nice pair?” She said, tilting her head sideways as she continued to smile.

 

“Um….yeah….so then….what happened today?” John finally stepped back, but not before he had caressed the side of Sherlock’s face. It warmed his heart to know that Sherlock had faith on him and hadn’t scooted off to be with someone he trusted more.

 

“One peroxide blonde came knocking at the door,” Sherlock explained, “I think she recognized me as the face in the newspaper.”

 

“Shit,” John did a facepalm, “I knew it. I met her downstairs.”

 

“She told you?”

 

“No, but she was asking me pointed questions about living alone. I guess she was trying to dig for details.”

 

“But so far nobody has come here, nobody untoward that is. So it might be that she is finding ways to contact Walter and get her money.”

 

Mrs. Hudson interrupted their conversation. “Sherlock has to leave tomorrow. We can wait out tonight but no more than that. John, with the changed situation around us, the longer he stays here the worse his fate could be.”

 

“I know Mrs. Hudson,” John said, “We will get out of here before the sun rises. At least that way he won’t risk getting identified or spotted by any other neighbor.”

 

“But where will I go?” Sherlock asked, dismayed.

 

“Don’t worry, I have it all figured out,” John said, “I have an aunt who lives in Edinburgh. She is a very kind, very responsible lady and she will happily support my request to keep you there for as long as it takes. In the meantime I will involve my friend from Scotland Yard, Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade, to investigate this bastard Walter Dunne. As long as he is a free man you will always be in danger. We have to convince the trustees that you are mentally and physically capable of managing your father’s fortune and business. Once it is all transferred to you, he can’t do a shit. We can even get restraining orders against him and keep him away.”

 

“I’d like to help with the investigation,” Sherlock said eagerly.

 

“I know you are a very intelligent man,” John responded gently, “But in this case it might prove to be counterproductive. You can help but that must be long-distance help. It’s too dangerous for you to get involved directly.”

 

Sherlock’s face fell, “Will you drop me at Edinburgh and return immediately?”

 

“I’ll stay overnight,” John smiled. Sherlock wanted him around, which was a good thing. He was flattered and delighted.

 

“Oh.”

 

“I’ll come to pick you up the moment this is over, I promise.”

 

“Sure John.”

 

“Hey cheer up! Look, I got so many things for you. Mrs. Hudson, please lend Sherlock a duffel bag to pack his clothes and toiletries for the Edinburgh stay.”

 

***

 

“Come to bed Sebby,” Jim whined.

 

Sebastian looked up from his laptop, “Jimmy I am so sorry. I know you hate to sleep alone.”

 

Making up his mind to do his work later, once Jim had fallen asleep, Sebastian closed his laptop and the reading light and got up from his chair. Jim stood there at the entrance to his home office, sexy in a pair of black boxers and a see through white T shirt with short sleeves. “With a sexy boyfriend like this, who cares about work?” Sebastian kissed Jim’s neck and lifted him in his arms bride style, “I think there are much better things to do in the bedroom right now. Come on, let’s go and have a good time shall we? It will also help me sort out the little dilemma in my head.”

 

“What sort of dilemma?” Jim winked, “Is it about who will be on top?”

 

“I think tonight I need you to top, I need to feel you inside me,” Sebastian said unexpectedly as he sucked on the soft skin behind Jim’s ear, making the man moan and curl up in his arms. Earlier he wasn’t a man who enjoyed bottoming and hadn’t done so till Jim had waltzed into his life and changed him completely. Now with this beautiful partner, this mysterious and elegant creature, this man who could surprise him every single day, he was even keen to be dominated in bed from time to time. He would not only allow Jim to stick his dick inside him, he was open to Jim using toys on him, spanking him, gagging him and tying him up during sex. He would lie there and enjoy the erotic results with full passion.

 

“I like how that sounds,” Jim said as he was lowered on the bed, “Me inside you.”

 

Sebastian yanked off Jim’s boxers and then started to take off his T shirt and sweatpants. Jim sat up for a brief moment to pull his T shirt over his head and toss it aside before he lay down again, lazily stroking his full-blown dick. “Next to a vibrator.”

 

“What?” Sebastian jumped into bed, narrowing his eyes.

 

“Me and the vibrator, both inside you.”

 

“Jimmy, you’ll make me cum without even starting off.”

 

“Then hold it back. You have military training for Christ’s sake.”

 

“Uhhhhnnnnn……”

 

“Oh God! Fine, let me use a cock ring on you.”

 

Ten minutes later Sebastian’s deep throated, rumbling groans filled the room as he lay on his front with his legs spread and Jim pounded his hole. For the blond former military man it was one of those situations when he feared he might pass out from arousal. There was a sleek vibrator constantly throbbing against his prostate while Jim’s rigid length drilled deep inside him before pulling out almost all the way and plunging in again. He just couldn’t stop the shudders in his body or the moans that constantly escaped his mouth.

 

Had it not been for the cock ring he would have come the moment Jim had inserted the toy.

 

“Oh fuck,” Jim cried out suddenly, “You’re getting tighter.”

 

“Please babe,” Sebastian begged, “Please make me cum.”

 

“You wanna cum now?”

 

“Yeaaaah, fuck yeah, please!”

 

Jim sped up, flesh slapping flesh, his cock appearing and disappearing inside Sebastian’s well lubed hole while the smaller man grabbed the mounds of his meaty arse. When his fingers trailed towards Sebastian’s family jewels and grabbed them, the crime boss cried out suddenly and started to shake all over. Recognizing the signs, Jim quickly took off the cock ring and allowed Sebastian to rub himself to an orgasm against the sheets. He continued to fuck Sebastian through the next whole minute as the former army sniper gasped and choked and cried out his name before cumming so profusely he left a huge wet and spunk filled spot on the pristine Egyptian cotton sheets.

 

“You cum,” Sebastian cried out as he shuddered from aftershocks.

 

“Oh fuck,” Jim stilled suddenly, then his cock spasmed inside Sebastian and let out a stream of warm fluid that partly trickled out from the latter’s now well-used hole. When Jim softened and pulled out, more of the pearly cum streamed out and ran over Sebastian’s balls. “That looks so fucking sexy,” Jim exclaimed, staring at his ‘work’, “Now I know why you like fingering me after you’ve unloaded inside me.”

 

“Playing in my own cum, I like it,” Sebastian said as he turned his head to one side to look at his brunette lover, “Now it seems like you do too.”

 

“Mmmm…..I love you!”

 

“Love you too baby.”

 

“Sebby?”

 

“Yes love?”

 

“What sort of work do you do?”

 

Sebastian always felt afraid of this question. He hated to lie to Jim and he feared being abandoned by him in case he told him the truth. So he chose to either stay silent, change the topic or give some roundabout answer. He wished that at some point Jim stopped asking.

 

He moaned softly as the toy was removed from his arse and Jim lay beside him, curling up against his larger frame. His eyes were half lidded, his face flushed, he looked sleepy and worn out. Sebastian took advantage of that and replied, “Consulting work, client servicing, negotiations and lobbying, the same things I always say. You know that already, don’t ya? Sleep now, you look very tired hon!”

 

Fortunately for him, Jim slept soon and he managed to get out of bed and take a quick wash of his privates. He could still feel the place of intrusion but it was a pleasant ‘after-feeling’ of their sex, something he relished. It would fade away over the next twenty-four hours at the most. He stepped to the left and right and took a few steps forward, nope, no limp at all. Nobody would ever know that Mighty Moran sometimes preferred being the woman in the relationship, allowing his stud to fuck him into the mattress.

 

He had just wrapped himself in a bathrobe when he heard his phone buzzing on the nightstand. With a giant leap he crossed the distance and answered it with an angry hiss, “Tom, what the fuck? Do you know what time it is?”

 

“I am so sorry about the weird timing,” Tom sounded both excited as well as a little concerned, “There is something you must know boss and it couldn’t wait for you to get online or for tomorrow morning. After you investigated the client Walter Dunne and gave me the go-ahead to take up the job, one of our newest aides contacted me. His name is Pieter Klutz and he helps us with our drugs business. One of his customers and sub-dealer, a cougar he’s also fucking, claims to have seen this William Sherlock Holmes. He is holed up in a flat in South London, with a man who might be his lover or partner.”

 

“Is the information genuine?”

 

“Yes it is.”

 

“How? She is just another druggie and whore. Why is her statement so trustworthy?”

 

“I thought too that she was trying to make a quick buck and didn’t believe her initially. But then she mentioned he has a little mole under his chin and from one of the photos you sent me, that is 100% accurate and correct. It was not mentioned in the missing person’s ad.”

 

“That sounds genuine then.”

 

“It is boss.”

 

“I am happy to know we have made progress but why was this call so necessary? You were supposed to send people to pick him up from there Tommy, not to call me before we have Mr. Holmes in our custody.”

 

“Um…chief…the person this William Sherlock is allegedly staying with….he’s someone you may not want us to disturb. That’s why I thought I’d check with you first before taking any action.”

 

“Whatcha mean someone I wouldn’t…..anyways, who is it? The Mayor of London?”

 

“No, it is your good friend Doctor John Hamish Watson.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danger reaches John and Sherlock's doorstep

It just felt like the right thing to do.

 

John and Sherlock got into bed together that night, in John’s bedroom, the master bedroom.

 

At first both felt hesitant, awkward, yet none of them felt uneasy enough to warrant different sleeping arrangements. They were into this together and wanted to be together as often and as much as they could, given their current circumstances. John lay on his back, as did Sherlock, their eyes initially fixed on the ceiling but now and then their heads turned to steal a glimpse of each other. At some point, when they both turned their heads at the same time, their eyes met and that was the end of all pretenses. Sherlock rolled over to face John and John found himself reach out and grab Sherlock’s arm, pulling him even closer.

 

“Jawn….”

 

John loved the way Sherlock called out to him during such moments. A different tone, a different sound, a different accent. His deep voice also became smoother, softer. His eyes, almond shaped beautiful green pools of light, looked even more luminescent than usual and his skin, alabaster and unlined, acquired the roseate blush that made him look sexier than ever. The smitten and aroused doctor still decided to cut him a wide berth, considering the fact that it was very evident that Sherlock didn’t have a lot of experience.

 

“Yes Sherlock?”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“No, thank _YOU_.”

 

“Me? For what?”

 

“You breezed into my life and gave it a new purpose. I have been saving lives at work but outside of my profession I had never ever had to be responsible for anyone other than myself. Strange as it sounds, but I like being responsible for you. I like that. It makes me feel great.”

 

“Hero complex?” Sherlock looked unsure about John’s intentions.

 

“No, just mutual attraction I suppose,” John answered truthfully, “I was attracted to you the moment we met and I felt like I had to look after you, be your friend, support you through whatever hardships you were going through. I kept questioning myself, why am I doing so many things for a stranger? But every time I got just one response.”

 

“What might that be?”

 

“You are falling for him John Watson.”

 

“Really,” Sherlock snuggled closer, relieved look on his young face, “I am not alone in this?”

 

“Most definitely not,” John said confidently, throwing a leg over Sherlock’s long pins and wrapping an arm over his chest to hold him closer, “In fact it was me who was wondering if I was alone in this. And why should I not? Look at me and look at you. You’re young, beautiful, tall and handsome, sexy and charming, you come from money and you must have hundreds of admirers. Me? Thirty already, overworked, a middle-class doctor who is only five feet seven inches and has nothing more than this tiny flat and its old, much used furniture. Even my car is still being paid for. Not much to court a prince like you I suppose.”

 

“You’re educated, classy, kind, intelligent, generous, with a great future ahead of you as a surgeon,” Sherlock said shyly, “As for your height, I look up to you no matter how many more inches I have on you. It makes you tall, I suppose.”

 

“You’re good for my ego, you know that,” John kissed Sherlock’s cheek.

 

Their faces were inches apart. Sherlock breathed heavily, chest rising and falling alarmingly under John’s arm, and his lips parted slightly in a silent invitation. John wanted to seek permission, wanted to be a gentleman and wait for Sherlock to make the first move, but his body betrayed him suddenly and he found himself closing the gap between their lips. At first they just kissed and gasped with the sensations it produced but soon Sherlock’s fingers tangled in John’s sandy blond hairs and the kiss returned in full force.

 

This time it was hot and wet and deep.

 

John had never felt this deep in love. It was no mere attraction towards a gorgeous young man but a truly powerful love that was slowly rendering him useless to any other man or woman in this world.

 

_Careful John, careful now._

 

Sherlock moaned the moment the bulges trapped in their sleep pants touched through two layers of soft fabric.

 

“Sherlock,” John’s voice was thick, “May I touch you…..there?”

 

Sherlock hid his face in John’s neck and nodded. John felt that nod more than he saw it but that was all he needed to take this further. He pushed their pants downwards and grabbed their cocks in a hard and firm grasp. Sherlock mewled out loud and thrust up instantly.

 

“Let me do this,” John murmured, not sure why he was even talking, or how he could still talk. The mere touch of that velvety flesh, the faint musk from the younger man’s groin, and he was already so light-headed and dizzy with arousal that he could barely function normally. All he wanted to do was to hump his lover till they both exploded in an ocean of cum and then fall asleep in each other’s arms.

 

“I need to….” Sherlock cried out, trying to move his hips and finding it hard to do so with John’s entire weight on top of him.

 

Though the young man didn’t finish his sentence John knew exactly what he needed. Personally he would have preferred to blow the younger man and milk him at least once. Then he would have taken it the full nine yards and fucked him gently but for a long time, making him beg for and finally get a second orgasm. One quick and hard and dirty, the other long and romantic and gentle but equally hot as the first. But Sherlock was rather virginal in bed and he didn’t want to spook him out by getting too forceful or pushing for intrusive sex during their very first time together. He had to be patient.

 

John began to move atop Sherlock, using his hand like a tight passage for their twin erections to rub against, and moving his hips fast so he bore down and rubbed silkily against Sherlock’s manhood. The twin stimulation worked and Sherlock was soon in another world, moaning, crying, wailing and pleading with John for ‘more’ while unable to articulate what ‘more’ meant. John kissed him into silence when he got too loud. While he loved how hot those sounds were, he couldn’t afford to get noticed by his neighbors for any reason whatsoever.

 

“Oh….Oh,” Sherlock went, freeing his mouth and turning his head from side to side. Then ‘Oh-Oh’ again, as if he couldn’t trust himself to speak any more.

 

“What do you want Lockie,” the nickname just slipped out of John’s mouth, “Tell me.”

 

“I…….uh!”

 

“Tell me, please!”

 

“I want you…..uffffff!”

 

Sherlock’s eyes widened and his pupils were mostly dilated by then. In the dim lights of the room he looked like an angel being ravished. He swallowed and moaned, then added, “I want you to make me cum!”

 

John sped up some more and soon Sherlock tensed. His back arched up, his long neck thrust out as his head pushed backwards. His teeth sank into John’s right hand but the pain felt good. It even slowed down John’s orgasm that was hovering dangerously close by then.

 

“Jawwwwn…..comminnnggg!”

 

Sherlock came hard, his hot fluids splashing between their bodies. His heart thumped hard against his chest, so hard that John could hear his heartbeat loud and clear. His legs wrapped around John’s bottom and his heels dug hard into John’s butt. Then he bellowed out again.

 

John let go the very next moment, shuddering all over as he experienced one of the biggest orgasms of his life.

 

He wanted to say something, wanted to thank Sherlock for trusting him, wanted to at least mention how wonderful this was, but the day’s ordeal, his emotions and now this intense sexual release had totally worn him out. He yawned wide and barely managed to reach out to grab a few tissues to clean them up. Sherlock lay like a spent little lamb, beautiful and debauched, legs now hanging limply by John’s hips. He blinked hard a few times, trying really hard to stay awake, stifling a massive yawn that nearly threatened to split his cheeks apart. His eyes still fluttered shut and then suddenly he was asleep, breathing soft and shallow like a kid.

 

John felt his head drop on Sherlock’s shoulder. It felt so good, lying close like that, holding Sherlock close and using his shoulder as a pillow. He fell asleep in half a second.

 

The alarm clock lay neglected on the bedside table.

 

***

 

When John woke up, the first thing he realized was that his pants were around his ankles and he had Sherlock in his arms, snoring softly right into his ear.

 

The second thing he realized were more disappointing. It was broad daylight, which meant they had overslept and the alarm clock had not been used as planned. Also, someone was hammering on the door like they’d pound it till it came off its hinges.

 

Sherlock slept on, undisturbed by the noise, but John’s heart trembled in nervousness. Who could be knocking like that? It couldn’t be Mike or Mrs. Hudson or any other neighbor. It had to be someone else and in the current situation it could be anybody. Cursing himself for making a stupid mistake and missing their planned escape to Edinburgh, John quickly pulled his pants up and grabbed his gun. It was a licensed gun from his military days. Leaving the bedroom door shut, he tiptoed to the door and tried to look through the viewfinder.

 

He didn’t see anyone. Maybe whoever had knocked was now walking away and not in his line of vision. Nonetheless, nothing stopped them from coming back later. John yanked the door open to threaten the intrusive bastard, gun raised in his hand and a vicious look on his face, but to his shock it was Colonel Sebastian Moran who suddenly jumped in front of him. He had a sinister and curious look in his blue orbs as he stared at the gun.

 

He raised his hands, “Pointing a gun at a visitor? You didn’t use one back in Afghanistan where you were protecting the motherland. Seems you’re defending something more precious here?”

 

John felt as if someone had driven an ice axe into his gut. Fear for Sherlock swarmed through his brain and he had to struggle to keep his face normal. But there was no choice but to be strong, to treat the situation with cool composure and total confidence. “Yes there is something more precious I was defending,” he said. When Sebastian raised his brows he added, “My personal space, my privacy. There are some really nosey dopey elements who live in this building, you see.”

 

Sebastian gave him a narrow-eyed look and said, “Can I come in?”

 

He clearly hadn’t expected John to stand his ground so solidly and boldly and his earlier cocky confidence was replaced by a certain amount of circumspection and respect for his friend. At those words John also realized he had been bodily blocking Sebastian from entering the flat. He quickly stepped aside and said, “Of course Seb, come right in. Want some coffee or tea?” Sebastian stepped inside, eyes darting here and there as if he was searching for something or someone, “Yeah, coffee would be nice. If you’re having breakfast, I don’t mind taking a nibble from it too.”

 

_He is trying to stay back so he can ‘accidentally’ discover who I have been hiding here. Stay calm and indifferent John, just do what you’d do normally if Sebastian would have shown up at your place one fine morning._

 

“I am in a hurry to get to work today,” John said as he stepped into the kitchen and pointed at a chair by the kitchen table for Sebastian to take a seat on, “So breakfast will be quick service pancakes and coffee. Would that do?”

 

“Fantastic,” Sebastian didn’t sit. He kept walking around the living room, studying various objects and artifacts.

 

“So,” John started to make a pot of fresh coffee, “What brings you here? The last time you visited me was a year and half ago, to celebrate my promotion and that too because I called you and repeatedly requested you to come.”

 

“That very incident made me pay this sudden visit this morning,” Sebastian eyed the shut door of the bedroom suspiciously, “I didn’t want you to think I am not willing to celebrate your special moments in life with you, like any good friend should do.”

 

“Which special event?” John started the pancakes, hoping his hands didn’t shake.

 

“I heard you got engaged.”

 

“Me? What? No, not at all.”

 

Sebastian took out a package from his laptop bag, “I even brought you and your man a gift.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of JohnLock sex to prep things up before the situation turns a bit.....ugly.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock saves himself but danger looms outside

Sherlock had woken up to find himself alone in bed and voices coming from the living room. Being a sharp-witted, alert, clever young man he tiptoed to the door and listened in, hoping it was someone like Mrs. Hudson or Mike Stamford. But after catching on just a few words he realized it was not one of their friends. John sounded guarded, the conversation was mostly one-sided and definitely John wasn’t expecting the other person to be there.

 

This had to be someone who was after him, someone that confounded bitch would have informed about his presence.

 

Shit, he looked at the alarm-clock, why the fuck did they sleep through the alarm or forget setting the alarm! This was really serious trouble they’d landed in. No, it was his trouble and poor John had gotten tangled in it all thanks to his presence. Right from the beginning Sherlock had felt an overwhelming attraction towards John but after last night’s intimacy he was crashing into love. He couldn’t bear the thought of the good-natured, kindly, intelligent and generous doctor being harmed in any way because of him. No, he’d rather turn himself in than watch that happen.

 

He leaned against the door, eyes darting towards all possible exits from the room. There was the window but it was too high up for him to jump out. There was the tiny balcony but getting out there was risky, if this man was at the flat he’d surely have someone downstairs watching things for him. They’d spot Sherlock in no time because that balcony opened up right on to the car park for visitors.

 

There was the bathroom and the walk-in closet. He could duck in there and wait it out, stay hidden even if the bedroom door was opened.

 

Nah, they’d be too easy and obvious hiding places. If push came to shove and the search intensified he’d get spotted in no time by anybody with half a brain.

 

He had to do something different. _Think Sherlock think!_

 

He heard more voices, sounds from the kitchen, then some laughter from the ‘guest’ and suddenly he caught the few words that were spoken aloud. ‘Oh by all means I’d love to meet him but in case you want to keep him a secret, hide him in your bedroom, then I understand.’

 

That was followed by John stating with obligatory nonchalance, “By all means go on and take a peek inside the bedroom. In fact let me help you with that. There is nobody in there, NOBODY at all.”

 

Sherlock realized the meaning of the raised voice. John had to do this or it would all be over. This was the doctor’s way of telling him to hide, to be prepared, to do something to keep their cover intact. Sherlock stared around wildly and smiled when an idea struck him.

 

***

 

“I got you and your man this,” Sebastian unpacked a high-end DSLR camera with an additional powerful zoom lens, “I was hoping this would come in handy whenever you go on vacation, during your wedding and later on with your honeymoon. There is nothing better than capturing beautiful memories from the most beautiful days of our lives. So, are you really no engaged or are you too shy to admit being so? I am your friend, even if this doesn’t end well I’ll never judge you for a broken relationship.”

 

John was struggling to keep his composure now. It was weird to be openly mistrusted by Sebastian. He also began to realize for the first time just how powerful, threatening, formidable and scary his pal could be. Sebastian looked like a tiger stalking its prey, his movements spelling danger at every step.

 

“I am not someone who intrudes without a reason,” Sebastian went on, now standing right outside the closed door of the master bedroom, “I am here because just days ago you came to wish me and my Jimmy a very happy life together. I felt I owed you the same. Anyways, I will still leave the present here for you and him, if there is a ‘him’, but I’d be very hurt John if you choose to keep your relationship a secret from me.” He keenly studied John’s distressed look and added, “Oh by all means I’d love to meet him but in case you want to keep him a secret, hide him in your bedroom, then I understand.”

 

John realized he had to take a risk. He was sure Sherlock was awake by now and going by the young man’s intelligence, he would have been listening to their conversation. He hoped desperately that Sherlock would find a way to hide somewhere so he could quell Sebastian’s suspicion that he was keeping someone hidden in the bedroom. Without applying much thought and hoping Sebastian didn’t really take him up on the offer, he said, “By all means go on and take a peek inside the bedroom. In fact let me help you with that. There is nobody in there, NOBODY at all.”

 

To his shock, Sebastian instantly opened the door and said, “I am not disbelieving you John but since you insist…..”

 

John felt his guts sink to the ground. This had been a stupid, stupid move and Sherlock would be caught any moment now. If Sebastian wished, he could drag Sherlock back to his ‘relative’ and John wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.

 

His eyes darted to the gun he had kept on the coffee table. Would he have the guts to point and shoot at Seb? Would that be a suicidal move? Could he really shoot a man he considered a friend? Could he really risk antagonizing a man like Colonel Moran?

 

Sebastian stepped into the bedroom and John rushed to catch up with him.

 

Both pairs of eyes went wide.

 

There was nobody in the room.

 

Sebastian walked around with a cynical smile, as if he was just taking a grand tour of the master bedroom and not really searching for anything. The bathroom door was open, the shower cubicle was visible, the closet door was open wide and so was the door to the balcony. There was absolutely no space anywhere for anyone to hide from their view. John felt relieved and worried at the same time. It was awesome that Sherlock had overheard them and chosen to act accordingly but it was also worrisome that the young man had disappeared without a trace. Where could he have gone? John hoped he was all right.

 

“Ah my apologies,” Sebastian exited the bedroom with a pleasant smile, “I should have just believed you. But friends do take some liberties from time to time, you see!”

 

“I understand that,” John maintained his calm demeanor, “No hard feelings.”

 

“You do understand you can talk to my Jim or walk into my bedroom too, anytime.”

 

“Yes. But that doesn’t mean I will do it.”

 

“Oh well……”

 

“Tell me the truth Seb. Who told you I am engaged and someone might be hiding in my bedroom? Was it a neighbor?”

 

“Oh never mind,” Sebastian changed the topic and his tone as quickly as a traffic light, going from curious and intense to light-hearted and breezy within four seconds, “It’s good to see you John. Now let’s have some breakfast. Those pancakes are calling out to me and the coffee smells nice as well.”

 

***

 

The moment Sherlock heard the front door shut, he carefully stepped back into the room through the window. He had just about steadied himself when the bedroom door burst open and in rushed a pale-faced John Watson.

 

“Sherlock,” John gasped and pulled him into a clinging embrace, kissing the sides of his face over and over again, “Oh God I was so worried for you. How did you manage to pull this off? Where were you?”

 

“It was a close shave, wasn’t it?” Sherlock said, overwhelmed by the hug and those kisses, “I heard you guys and knew I had to hide. I saw the obvious hiding places and knew he’d look for those spots and nowhere else. So I left those doors wide open and hid in that one place I knew he’d never really think of. When I looked out of the window I saw there was a wide parapet beneath it, one that allowed me a proper foothold. So I climbed down, stepped away from the window, and stayed there and kept my eyes closed so I don’t develop a fear of heights. It took him only one full minute to scan the bedroom and exit but he took his own sweet time to have breakfast as well.”

 

“Gosh, for ten minutes you stayed on that parapet,” John kissed Sherlock on the lips, checking him all over for any signs of injury or stress, “Oh God, you okay? Are you feeling all right? I am so sorry you had to go through this.”

 

“No John, I am sorry you have to go through this,” Sherlock said sadly, shaking his head as he spoke, “None of this would have happened had I not met you or insisted on staying here. Even last night, I was so wrapped up in what we were doing that I totally forgot we had an early start to make. Now we have the enemy at our doorstep. What’s going to happen now Jawn? How do we even get out of this flat today or anytime soon, much less make it to Edinburgh? I am sure Walter has employed him to trace me out and drag me back to that house. I won’t go back there, I cannot go back there.”

 

“You won’t,” John said, “Calm down.”

 

“I am sorry.”

 

“Don’t be. Those people who tortured you should be sorry.”

 

“But we are stuck.”

 

“Yes. But not for long.”

 

John asked Sherlock to stay inside the bedroom and away from the windows and balcony door which faced the visitor’s car park. He casually stepped out there though and surveyed the surroundings, pretending he was just enjoying the sun on his face. As he had suspected, he saw two suspicious looking cars parked there and people seated inside it. Sebastian had not believed him completely and left a surveillance team behind to keep an eye on the building.

 

***

 

“Walter where is Sherlock?”

 

“Oh hi Jeremy. How are you?”

 

“Walter I am fine, just like I was yesterday and the day before. I want to speak to Sherlock soon. It seems Victor Trevor, a family friend, wants to know if Sherlock is all right and if he’s been compromised in any way. While I’d have loved to confirm that he is indeed fine, I can’t just lie to him, can I? I need to at least see Sherlock or have a word with him before I can give a fair opinion on his wellbeing. How am I supposed to believe that in today’s world a young man has gone off on a trekking holiday and is out of mobile network coverage, outside of a satellite phone’s reach, out of any human reach? That too for days altogether? That too when he’s still in grief over the death of his parents and just recovering from substance abuse? How did you even allow this to happen? Who has accompanied him?”

 

“You do know how different Sherlock is,” Walter was shitting bricks by now.

 

“Listen, I am fed up of hearing the same excuses day in and day out,” the lawyer was clearly annoyed to a point where he didn’t wish to give Walter Dunne the benefit of the doubt any longer, “You have been put in charge of the Holmes estate and company but only because Sherlock is still indisposed. But that doesn’t mean this is all yours. This belongs to Sherlock and unless and until we see Sherlock, hear him and are convinced he can’t manage things on his own, we won’t allow you to do any further financial transactions on behalf of the Holmes family. The monthly allowance, the power of attorney and all other privileges you hold are temporarily suspended.”

“What? But how? I mean, how do I pay the employees and take care of the……”

 

“The trust is of the opinion that they’ll preside over it and I will check every sale, every spend, every investment before it is passed. Sorry Walter, I don’t mean to say you are embezzling funds or harming Sherlock but you haven’t handled this whole thing well. That’s a fact.”

 

“This is ridiculous. None of you have any proof that I have done anything wrong. I am doing everything in the interest of the Holmes family.”

 

“Maybe, but you have to do that within a framework of rules.”

 

“Jeremy, are you trying to tell me I am a crook?”

 

“No, I am trying to tell you not to push your luck with me.”

 

Walter Dunne disconnected and let out an angry yell. He was not just upset, he was now getting nervous and unsettled. Things were clearly not going in the right direction and unless he produced Sherlock in that ungainly, influenced state in front of Jeremy and Victor, he’d be investigated. That would open a can of worms because not all the financials were in order.

 

He dialed the number of Sebastian Moran directly instead of the middleman he had earlier spoken to. After a few rings the consulting criminal answered.

 

“Colonel Moran here.”

 

“Colonel Moran, my name is Walter Dunne and I am calling to check on a job I had entrusted your team with. This is about Sherlock Holmes.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a little help from friends John and Sherlock manage to escape!

Sebastian was in bed with his Jim, bathed in afterglow and naked as the day he was born, when the call came in. Jim was in a dozy state and he whined and looked at his lover, pleading with his eyes to ignore the call or just answer with a short text of ‘I will call you right back’. Sebastian looked at his watch, it was late and he didn’t like his private time with Jim interrupted. As it is they got very little time of their own. His face twisted into a slight rictus and annoyance dripped off his tone as he answered, “Colonel Moran here”.

 

“Colonel Moran, my name is Walter Dunne and I am calling to check on a job I had entrusted your team with. This is about Sherlock Holmes.”

 

Sebastian almost groaned. What the hell! Walter Dunne was calling him directly now! The cheek of the man! But then he couldn’t deny that he and his team had failed at a very simple task and naturally the client had the right to escalate matters to him. He held the phone away from himself and whispered to Jim ‘It won’t take too long darling, sorry about this but work is work’. Jim didn’t seem happy at all but he accommodated Sebastian’s request and untangled himself from the blond man’s arms, moving away from him and scrolling through his own mobile, a pout evident on his lips.

 

“Yes Walter,” Sebastian barked, “It’s rather late. Can’t this wait till tomorrow?”

 

“If it could have waited, I wouldn’t have called tonight,” Walter replied, trying to keep his nerves as he spoke to a man known as the second most dangerous one in London.

 

“What is so urgent?”

 

“I was told Sherlock would be found in forty-eight hours and we are past that deadline. With every hour Sherlock stays absconding, I get exposed in the eyes of his friends and family as a careless and irresponsible caretaker. Also, he might be in trouble and we won’t be able to help him unless he is traced, unless we know who he is with. I just want to know that he’s safe, he’s unharmed.”

 

Sebastian got out of bed and padded to the bedroom, closing the door behind him. Jim didn’t need to know. Jim thought he was a consultant, someone who supported several clients with their businesses, he didn’t have to know he was a criminal consultant who worked in organized crime. “This task is proving to be tougher than we thought. He’s a man of canny intellect or someone he’s with might be very shrewd. He has been kept hidden, very cleverly and immaculately, and we have to put in a lot more effort to trace him than we originally thought.”

 

Sebastian suppressed a grin. _Convert a problem into an opportunity_ , that was what his boss always said. This was the perfect moment for that.

 

“But I am paying a million dollars just to find a man, a benign and ordinary citizen. Plus a hundred grand to any informer who provides a tip-off on him. I am sure it’s more than enough for a job like this.”

 

“Walter don’t be absurd,” Sebastian’s voice was deep and booming and the other man automatically mumbled ‘sorry’ before falling silent.

 

Sebastian grinned wickedly. “This is probably the first time you’re working with one of us, aren’t you? You have no idea what we do and just how dangerous we could be, do you? People don’t come to us unless they have nowhere else to go, unless they know they have already broken the law and can’t go to the law keepers. If you were genuinely worried about this Sherlock, you would have gone to the cops. You didn’t do that, which means there is something dirty going on there huh? Ten million quid Mr. Walter fucking Dunne, or you will neither see Sherlock nor will you see the light of another day.”

 

“But this-this-this is extortion.”

 

“What did you say?”

 

“I mean, that is too much.”

 

“No, I think this is too little. You’re trying to grab a hundred million which isn’t yours. We will facilitate that for you and in return we’re asking for ten percent of it. Not a bad deal I say. What say you Wally?”

 

“I…..I…..I…..”

 

“What? Louder please. I didn’t hear it properly.”

 

“Yes sure, ten million is fine with me. Just get him to me very quickly because I am about to lose the plot unless he’s here.”

 

“Don’t worry, we will get him for you. Just transfer five million immediately to the account whose details my colleague would have given you.”

 

Sebastian disconnected and quickly flushed the toilet, so Jim wouldn’t know what he was up to. But the moment he opened the door, he saw Jim standing on the other side with a rather bewildered expression on his face. Despite his stature as a criminal, despite the fact that everyone feared him, Sebastian felt cold sweat form at the back of his neck. He was not just afraid, but terrified of losing Jim. He couldn’t lose him, never ever.

 

“Honey if you needed the bathroom you could have just stepped inside,” he said as gently and normally as possible.

 

“Sebby,” Jim looked a bit wary, “You’re not doing something wrong here, are you? Just tell me you aren’t and I will believe you.”

 

Sebastian hated to lie to Jim but he had no choice here. Between losing Jim by telling the truth and lying and letting their relationship continue, he chose the latter. “No, nothing wrong here, no wrongdoings at all,” he replied and kissed Jim on his forehead.

 

***

 

“I have been locked up here for two days and nights now,” Sherlock said, discreetly watching Sebastian Moran’s surveillance team downstairs as they pretended to be six normal men standing and chatting around a large black SUV, “The longer we wait the worse it will get. They know I am here and they’re going nowhere, not until they get me. I have this feeling that someday they will get tired of waiting and just barge in. Look at them, any one of them can just kick the door in.”

 

“Sherlock we have no choice but to wait, we can’t escape their surveillance so easily,” Mike Stamford said. After hearing Sherlock’s story, Mike and Mrs. Hudson were even more eager to help the young man. He had suffered enough, they wouldn’t let him suffer again.

 

“No Mike, he is right,” John said, “So far Sebastian has been patient but that’s only because he knows me well and considers me a friend. But he’s also something more than just a friend, he is a renowned gang leader who has very strong political and espionage connections. He is practically untouchable by the law. He keeps the law in his pocket. If he chooses his profession over our friendship I won’t be able to stop him from picking Sherlock up like a sack of potatoes and carrying him out of this door.”

 

“What do you suppose you’ll do?” Mrs. Hudson asked, “How can you even get out of this building without them spotting you.”

 

“They are waiting for us to make a mistake,” Sherlock said, “They want us to do something rash and stupid. It makes their job easier.”

 

“Then let’s not make their job easier,” John said.

 

“How?” Three voices asked the same question.

 

“I have an idea,” John said, looking rather excited all of a sudden, “But I will need your help and maybe that of a few friends you know, friends whom you can trust, friends who wouldn’t mind taking a small risk. I can assure you no harm will come to any of them.”

 

“You sure of that?” Mike asked, “I mean I can take a risk but if I involve anyone else then I need to be sure.”

 

“Sebastian usually takes on far more dangerous and riskier jobs,” John explained, “He is doing this as one of his ‘easy kills’ or because he owes someone something. Maybe as a favor. He wouldn’t commit any visible crimes or violence and draw the attention of the cops or the public for this kind of work. He would like to be discreet. So, even if he knows he has been deceived, no heads will roll.”

 

“I agree,” Sherlock said, “Walter will also not want to draw any negative publicity through this. The trust and the Holmes estate’s lawyer will suck his blood dry if that happens.”

 

***

 

The surveillance team had just changed shifts an hour ago, at 9 am. Sebastian was very particular about not overstretching the limits of his men unless it was a critical mission of international importance. People worked their ten hours and left, replaced by another SWAT team. As for this job, he had ordered that people be extra vigilant and therefore he didn’t want sleepy and bored and distracted folks there. He wanted fresh, alert and dedicated men there who would watch John’s every move, monitor every visitor to his flat, check every person who left that building.

 

“They will try something later in the night,” their shift leader Aaron said, “Be careful. Nobody sleeps or dozes or takes a break till five in the morning. The only break you’re allowed is a quick leak in that public toilet over there.”

 

Everyone nodded. Two of them sat in the car and monitored the cameras they had set up around the building while two of them took rounds around the building to ensure nobody escaped from the other side. The other two strolled around the front gate and kept an eye on the windows of the flat John Watson owned. The neighborhood was growing quieter, the street lights were all that shone there because it was past ten and people were beginning to retire for the night. Fewer vehicles came by, fewer voices could be heard, silence had begun to take over.

 

“One more night of futile surveillance,” one of the men said, “Nothing will happen tonight, like the past two nights. You really think that kid is in there?”

 

“Very much,” said his colleague, “If the boss feels so, we know so.”

 

“Hey,” the first one said, “I was wrong.”

 

“Of course you were. The kid is…..”

 

“No, the other thing I said. There is going to be some activity tonight, in fact it’s happening right now. Look!”

 

They saw a young man in a hoodie get on a bicycle and move swiftly out of the building premises, pedaling hard. “Let’s follow him,” the goon said, “Come on, alert the boss.”

 

“But another guy is leaving the building,” his colleague said, pointing out, “Look over there.”

 

To their surprise they saw another tall man, wearing a shroud, get into a car and drive out. At the same time a third such willowy figure jumped over the wall and zipped down the street, rollerblading his way out of there.

 

Aaron was informed within seconds and he was not just flabbergasted but frustrated by the sudden turn of events. “From no activity to three idiots scooting off in three directions, this is absurd,” he cursed and spat on the ground, “Don’t just stand there and gawk like idiots at me. Let’s break into three groups and pursue each one of them because any one could be that kid. No, no, no, wait look there is John Watson leaving with another fellow. I think the first three cases were pure eyewashes. They tried to trick us into leaving so they could get a safe passage out of here. Stupid man, he thinks we are so easy to fool huh?”

 

They got into the car and gave chase to John and Sherlock who had bundled into John’s car and were trying to get out of there. They did manage to get out of the building premises and the street but by the time they had reached one of the broader and busier roads, the black SUV had managed to catch up with them. Still, John showed no signs of slowing down or stopping. He sped up and shot through the traffic, trying to get away from the car that was in hot pursuit.

 

“Faster, step on the gas, faster” Aaron said impatiently, “We have to stop them and grab that kid. Don’t lose sight of them.”

 

“Sure boss.”

“We took a risk not following the other three men. If this chase turns out to be a failure the boss will have our hide.”

 

“We are getting closer chief, we will be with them in no time.”

 

“John Watson was a racing driver or what? He is zipping through traffic like he was born to drive a fucking car.”

 

“I don’t care what he is. You better drive right up to him and park right in front of that car or I will blow your brains out.”

 

The chase continued through roads, streets, alleys and even over sidewalks. People ran and scuttled away, cursing at them. John managed to stay ahead while the goons stayed on his heels, not giving up. “How long will he do this?” Aaron growled, “Let’s call reinforcements.”

 

“Boss, oh shit, look where he’s going,” the criminal who was driving the car slammed his foot on to the brakes. Ahead of them John’s car had taken a sharp right turn and entered the Scotland Yard building.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Have you ever helped anyone like you’re helping me?” Sherlock asked.
> 
> “I don’t remember, okay maybe not this much.”
> 
> “Then why are you helping ME?”

“I can’t believe they fell for this,” John was grinning, “Well done Sherlock.”

 

“What?” Sherlock grinned too as he sat in Mike Stamford’s wife’s car, the one he had left behind for Sherlock and John, “This was an idea that germinated in your head. You deserve all the credit for this Jawn.”

 

Jawn reached out and took Sherlock’s hand, bringing it to his mouth to kiss it. “Don’t be modest Mr. Holmes, you deserve half the credit too. I was planning on deceiving them by disguising a couple of teenagers Mike knows and make them look like you, then send them out as if you’re trying to get away. I had no back up plan in case they didn’t fall for the trick or grabbed those boys within a mile and realized they had been fooled. You not only made a backup plan but also roped Mrs. Hudson into it. She was thrilled to be able to help. I guess that lady has had an eventful life when she was younger.”

 

“No doubt,” Sherlock smiled as he stretched his long legs, “Deceiving then with decoys or dummies would have been too obvious, so the real deception was when Mike and Mrs. Hudson went out in your car, disguised as us. While Mike managed to look like me while wearing in-sole heels in his shoes and a long overcoat, Mrs. Hudson was the real star of the day in your clothes and the beanie you usually wear.”

 

“They fell for it,” John punched the air, thrilled, “They thought we had planted decoys and then tried to escape right after. Little did they know that only when they went after my car did we step out of the building. It also bought us enough time to reach the station.”

 

“I don’t suppose they will be able to trace us. Mike and Mrs. Hudson would have led them awa quite some distance.”

 

“Yeah. I have a good mind to call them and check.”

 

“John, your phone is on silent.”

 

“Oh shit, yes. Good Lord, missed call from Mike Stamford.”

 

John quickly called his friend back and put it on speaker. Soon Mike’s voice came through and it was clear that he was more than thrilled. Adrenalin seemed to be pumping through his vocal chords as he spoke. “Hey guys we are fine, we are safe. By the way, those goons were given a royal monkey ride by none other than our true hero of the day – Mrs. Martha Louise Hudson.”

 

“Where is Hudders?” Sherlock asked, “Where are you both?”

 

“My place. We are safe. What about you and John?”

 

“Almost at the station. We will park Mrs. Stamford’s car at the spot you wanted us to, so you can find it easily tomorrow.”

 

“Mike,” John spoke this time, “What happened man? You sound okay so I am a bit relieved, but how did you give them the slip?”

 

Mike started to laugh, “You won’t believe it John, as I said today’s hero is Mrs. Hudson. She was the one behind the wheel and boy oh boy what a ride it was! Almost like riding a roller coaster or being on one of those simulators at an amusement park. She zipped through the London traffic like a pro, navigated through the busiest roads and streets at top speed, and all this while keeping her lipstick and mascara intact. You should have seen her, grinning like a champ and saying ‘bring it on’ as she did this, not even breaking into a sweat. Then guess what she did as an encore?”

 

“What?”

 

“She drove straight into Scotland Yard.”

 

John and Sherlock looked at each other, stunned, then burst out laughing.

 

“God bless her man,” John said a full minute later, laughter still audible in his voice, “What an awesome woman!”

 

***

 

John’s aunt owned a pretty little detached house in Edinburgh. Located in an upmarket neighborhood where mostly the landed gentry or the people with ‘old money’ lived, her house spanned four levels. From a nicely maintained cellar to a large attic which her partner used as his ‘studio’ (she was living with an artist for the past five years), her house was spick and span and spacious. Four bedrooms, a large sitting room, a proper parlor or study with a stone fireplace, a large and airy cottage style kitchen, a dining room that also housed an authentic wood oven where she made pizzas, her house had an aura that made any guest feel welcome and cheerful.

 

“John, Sherlock, meet my partner Ian,” she introduced the short, bald but smiling and polite man, “Ian meet my nephew John and his partner Sherlock.”

 

Sherlock got a start and looked at John who kept his face expressionless and straight. He didn’t return Sherlock’s gaze, instead concentrating on greeting Ian and telling him how delighted he was to finally meet the man who made his aunt Kelly so happy. “Usually Kelly’s adopted daughter Talia and my son from my previous marriage, Hugo, live here off and on,” Ian explained to them, “But this month we are on our own and you can be very comfortable here. Weeks, months, whatever it takes for John to return from his trip to Hungary, we’d be delighted to have you around.”

 

More mini-shocks for Sherlock but he handled it remarkably well. “Thanks a lot,” he said gratefully, “But I don’t suppose I’ll need that long. Maybe a week at the most.”

 

“In that case,” Kelly said, “I’ll cook all my special dishes within this week. I am really fond of cooking and feeding my house guests so prepare to put on a few pounds Sherlock.”

 

That night, as Sherlock sat in bed, John walked into the bedroom and closed the door with a sheepish look on his face. “I am sorry about all those lies I had to say to make your stay comfortable here,” the doctor said as he took off his jacket and sweater and kicked off his shoes, “I didn’t want to scare them with the real story because, who knows, Ian might have got cold feet and refused to cooperate with Kelly. I had to say I was going to Hungary for work and our flat is under renovation, I also had to use the word ‘relationship’ because there was no other believable way of putting it….I mean if they were to ask me ‘why do you care so much about someone you met less than a week ago’, what would have been a good answer?”

 

“Why do you care so much about someone you met less than a week ago?” Sherlock repeated John’s statement with an arrow straight look at the doctor.

 

“I…um I dunno, I am just a caring man I guess and you were really in trouble, so….” John mumbled and scratched his head sheepishly and walked to the bathroom with a change of clothes. He felt Sherlock’s eyes at the back of his head.

 

When he walked back out after ten minutes he saw Sherlock still sitting on the bed, much in the same position in which he had seen him a while ago, his mood tense and introspective. “Hey Sherling,” he said jovially, “What got you so worried huh? It’s been a sleepless night last night and a long day since then. Let’s catch up on some sleep. I gotta take the nine in the morning train back to London tomorrow.”

 

“Have you ever helped anyone like you’re helping me?” Sherlock asked.

 

“Yeah, I might have,” John knew where this was going and tried to act dismissive.

 

“What was their name?” Sherlock was stubborn and didn’t want to give up.

 

“I don’t remember, okay maybe not _this much_.”

 

“Then why are you helping _ME_?”

 

“Sherling, it’s too late in the night to debate all this. Now let’s go to sleep. Do you want me to take the couch?”

 

“Why?” Sherlock sounded disappointed, “What’s wrong with sharing a bed with me? We shared a bed in your flat for three nights running.”

 

“So we did,” John placated him with a smile, “Nothing wrong with sharing a bed, none at all. Come on, let me get in, let’s get some sleep.”

 

“Just to sleep?”

 

The tone was innocent and soft, the gaze was eager and expectant and the smile wicked and lustful. John was startled by the combination of the three but it was enough for him to get unbelievably aroused. Then Sherlock did something that made all possible hesitations fly out of John’s head, he lifted the covers and revealed a naked body underneath. A groan left John and he immediately moved closer to his lover, taking him into his arms and caressing as much of that slender, toned body as possible. Sherlock had a typical reaction to that, something John had been observing for the past two days. He would blush, curl up against John’s frame and tilt his face up for a kiss.

 

John kissed him passionately, exploring that hot mouth with his tongue and drawing out loud moans from his young lover. Sherlock eagerly kissed back, having gathered finesse and ease with the limited experience he had acquired with John. Surely a fast learner, John realized.

 

At the back of his mind he had a few misgivings about this though. While a part of him wanted Sherlock so much that he was willing to trade anything for it, a smaller part asked him to be cautious and circumspect. Such relationships never stood the test of time, in fact most of them ran out of steam after a short while. As soon as Sherlock was free from that monster, he would most likely return to his original life and things between him and John would slowly fade away. They would drift apart.

 

A gentle bite to his lower lip, more of a nibble really, got him back to the present. He grabbed the back of Sherlock’s head and deepened the kiss.

 

***

 

Sherlock’s blush had deepened. His face was flaming now. His chest and stomach were painted with cum and yet he was going strong, stroking himself to the rhythm and pace of John’s thrusts inside him. “Fuck you’re beautiful,” John confessed, no longer caring what the future held. It was so satisfying to live in this moment.

 

“J-Jawn,” Sherlock’s body undulated slightly, “Sitting.”

 

“Okay,” John said agreeably and pulled out, eliciting a whining response from his lover. He lay down on the bed and slathered more lube on to his cock, thanking the Heavens that his self-control was quite high. When Sherlock had cum within two minutes of John getting inside him, the doctor had almost climaxed. But he knew Sherlock was still hard and would need more stimulation and love from him, something he was willing to give with a smile. In fact, Sherlock could ask him for his life and John knew he wouldn’t hesitate from placing that in his Sherling’s palm. Such was the attraction and affection he felt for this curly haired, green eyed beauty, such was the level of unconditional commitment he wanted to offer. Too bad he was not going to get any of that back from Sherlock. The poor troubled kid was too young and too inexperienced to even understand the depth of his feelings.

 

“God Lockie, you drive me crazy!” John used Sherlock’s other nickname, grabbing him by his long arms and steadying him as Sherlock swayed unsteadily atop him.

 

“You d-do too,” Sherlock said with a strangled cry and started to rise and fall on John’s cock, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as his prostate was nudged spot on. Placing his hands on top of John’s knees and leaning back against them for leverage, Sherlock kept moving on John’s thick girth like a show-boy, looking sexy and hot as hell and letting out the most sensuous of sounds. His cock was rock hard and bouncing with every movement, pointing straight upwards and slapping against his abs with a wet sound. It was so hot, so dirty and so utterly enchanting that John completely forgot to warn Sherlock on time.

 

“Fuck,” he groaned as he felt the onrush of semen, “Nowww.”

 

“No-No, hold on, pleeaase!”

 

“Sherling….sorry…..fuck I’m gonna….!!”

 

“Ohhh….just a few mooore!”

 

John managed to thrust up a few times even as orgasm washed over him. As he began to spurt out his seed, he felt his lover cum for the second time. He felt the tight heat around his cock start to clench around him, almost milking him to the last drop. Sherlock made a racket initially and an alarmed John clasped the younger man’s mouth, trying to muffle the noises as much as possible. He had no desire to be made fun of the next morning at the breakfast table.

 

Sherlock literally collapsed on John from fatigue, nearly asleep. When John slipped out of him he made no sounds or movements at all, just stayed where he was. “Lockie,” John gently rolled him off his body and made him lie on the mattress, “You okay?”

 

“Uhnnn….”

 

“I’ll be back soon. You take care and stay safe here. Remember the precautions we discussed?”

 

“Uhnnn…”

 

John looked at the angelic face, the long lashes, the tendrils of hair falling over those alabaster cheekbones and something just wept out loud in his heart. _“I’m falling for you,”_ he whispered.

 

This time Sherlock didn’t answer. He was fast asleep.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Watson realizes he is in love and takes a bold step to save Sherlock

John had spent his entire time on the train from Edinburgh to London deliberating his future. Earlier he was a happy go lucky man who didn’t have a damned care in the world and lived by the day but after meeting Sherlock his life had turned upside down. Now he had started dreaming of the future, of a proper relationship and home, of vacations on the beach and dinners in the best Italian restaurants. Unfortunately, all of those dreams and plans had ‘Sherlock’ written all over them.

 

_He is a child John, let it go, he is merely a child._

 

He had better things to do right now. Starting from getting Sherlock out of this mess to connecting with Scotland Yard and getting that bastard Walter Dunne arrested. He had a plan forming in his head, it just needed some finishing touches and a little bit of help from his friends Mike and Mrs. Hudson. At the same time he didn’t want to antagonize Sebastian Moran. Sebastian was definitely hopping mad about the whole episode and would surely meet John, either come over or send a summon, and explaining the whole matter to him would be quite an uphill task. John hoped he didn’t fall out of favor with this man as it could involve a thousand repercussions.

 

Yet, amidst all these fears, he was sure he had done the right thing. Even if it cost him dearly, he knew he would still help Sherlock.

 

He looked at a photograph of Sherlock which he had clicked on his mobile phone. Innocent yet intelligent green eyes stared back at him, the hint of a smile beginning to form on those curvy lips, those razor sharp cheekbones standing out on an immensely attractive face.

 

“I am in love,” he whispered, “God help me, I am in love.”

 

As expected, he found Mike Stamford at the Victoria station. He was waiting for him and looked a bit worried.

 

“Sherlock okay?” His friend asked him the moment they exchanged a one arm hug.

 

“Yeah, he is safe there with Kelly,” John answered, “But I can’t keep him there forever so I need to act fast. How about you? Mrs. Hudson?”

 

“I brought her to my place. None of us went back there. Not safe.”

 

“I know. Sebastian must be furious.”

 

“It must have cost him money. I am sure he was doing this for a nice pretty sum. Such people never take monetary losses very kindly.”

 

“But he is the boss of that gang, isn’t he? Why should he be worried? I am sure when I talk to him and explain matters he will understand. At least, I hope he would.”

 

Mike Stamford shook his head, “No my friend, you’re mistaken.”

 

A man walked past them, giving them curious glances, and both men became silent out of a sense of wariness. They had no idea if they were being tailed and who was tailing them. It could be anybody around them, a spy hiding in plain sight. Mike held his silence till they sat in his wife’s car, the same one John and Sherlock had driven to the station in. Once they were on their way, Mike clarified his stance. “Look John, while I am more than willing to help Sherlock and I do laud you as well for doing your bit, we can’t get into the bad books of the ‘Spider’. Do you even know who the spider is and what he stands for?”

 

“Spider?” John asked, “No, who is that?”

 

“I did some intel with my sources and found out,” Mike replied, “He is Sebastian’s boss and the leader of the international web. Sebastian manages UK for him, England, Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland. He is the boss here in London but he too has someone to answer to.”

 

“Fuck,” John closed his eyes, “This isn’t good news.”

 

“I am sure this isn’t one of the major tasks they’d undertaken. Must be a minor one so the financial loss wouldn’t be too high. But men like Sebastian don’t like losing. He would be quite upset that you, of all people, tricked him. Prepare for a backlash.”

 

John looked at his friend, “What are you trying to imply?”

 

“Leave the country for a few days John, just get out of here. Go stay somewhere, Belgium, Switzerland, take up an assignment and stay there for a few days. We can speak to the head of your department and send you on an official assignment. I went four years ago to Bucharest and Prague and spent almost six months there as a visiting consultant at hospitals affiliated with ours. By the time six months are over, things would surely cool down here.”

 

“No Mike, what about Sherlock?”

 

“I say let him meet Greg Lestrade of Scotland Yard and explain the situation. Once you have connected him with the cops, your responsibility is over.”

 

“You mean I should just abandon him?”

 

Mike looked startled, “What? No. I didn’t mean that at all. Look, you have done enough for him have you not? Who risks their life and safety to help a stranger? I am sure Sherlock will appreciate your motives and be grateful for whatever you have done so far. If the police can’t help him then let’s try and contact that friend of his who lives abroad, what was the name you said, Victor Trevor. Maybe Victor can come over and you hand over the baton to him, let him help out his friend and possible fiancé. And then…..”

 

“No Mike,” John said with a resolute shake of his head, “I won’t do this.”

 

Mike Stamford turned the car into an alley and abruptly brought it to a halt. He let go of the wheel and turned to face John who sheepishly grinned back at him and stared out of the window. He knew what was coming up and the color rose to his cheeks, eventually flaming his ears as well. “John Hamish Watson, my dear friend and colleague,” Mike sighed in a dramatic and loud manner, “As I had feared for the past few days, so have the events turned out to be. Please don’t tell me you have fallen in love with that boy. You have, haven’t you? You aren’t just being a good Samaritan, you just want to protect him because you want him.”

 

John rubbed his face with his hands, suddenly feeling tired.

 

“Two days ago I would have argued with that logic but right now I can’t. On my way from Edinburgh this is what I had been thinking and pondering about. I had been asking myself ‘why am I doing so much for this boy, why’ and I finally got my answer today. Yes, I have feelings….”

 

“Just admit it, you are in love.”

 

“Yes I admit, I am in love.”

 

“Good God John, you are in so much trouble. That boy probably has a fiancé, someone his family wanted to set him up with. He is with you because he’s lonely, endangered, helpless. Once this situation is mitigated and the danger is gone, he will want his old life and friends back, he would want to reconnect with his fiancé. What happens to you then?”

 

John closed his eyes and leaned back against the seat. “I don’t know.”

 

“Tell him then.”

 

“This isn’t the right time.”

 

Mike sighed, “Yeah, I guess you are right. The time isn’t right. Not yet.”

 

***

 

A week had passed.

 

John was very happy with the way he had progressed with the case of Walter Dunne. He had been in regular touch with Sherlock and thanks to all the suggestions, clues and instructions given by the witty young man, he had managed to finally make a breakthrough.

 

Walter Dunne was a known embezzler, a serial offender when it came to money laundering, had been convicted of felony once in a different country and had clearly made plans to acquire significant amount of properties in the near future, pledging the Holmes estate as a safety deposit. John was quite pleasantly surprised by Sherlock’s insights and investigative procedures because following them had made his job so easy that he didn’t even break into a sweat while achieving so much over such a short period of time.

 

He had an informal charge-sheet ready in Walter’s name. The only challenge was to convince detective inspector Gregory Lestrade to leverage that charge-sheet and not create a new one. If he started creating a new one and summoned Walter for suspected criminal activities the latter was canny and resourceful enough to get out using a lawyer. The trick was to not let him use a lawyer before a proper case was built against him.

 

On the seventh day John decided to go and meet Gregory Lestrade at Scotland Yard. He had met the man once when the DI had come to the hospital for a treatment for his ex-wife, almost three and half years ago. Since then John and he had exchanged some Christmas and birthday messages but not really had too many face to face touchpoints. Thought he had boldly declared him as a ‘friend’ to Sherlock Holmes, deep down the good doctor knew Greg could easily refuse to assist him. He was about to get into the car he had rented for those few days (his car had been left parked outside his apartment building by Mike), when a heavy hand landed on his right shoulder and a booming voice hissed at him.

 

“Et Tu Watson?”

 

“Sebastian!!!”

 

“I have something that belongs to you.”

 

For a second John was stunned. Was it Sherlock? Had Sebastian found out where he was and kidnapped him? Nervous bolts shooting through his system he stammered, “Wh….who?”

 

“Not who but what,” Sebastian’s electric blue eyes scorched him, “A knife. The same one you plunged into my back. I thought we were friends.”

 

“We are…..”

 

“A fine way you displayed of honoring a friendship.”

 

“Sebastian we can talk about this.”

 

“Yes, talk. So finally you decide we should talk. Why didn’t you tell me earlier that we should talk, that we should discuss, that we should strike a deal? You see John, I value friendships but I don’t want to be a horse that calls every blade of grass his buddy and eventually starves to death. My work must continue and whether you like it or not, I let it continue despite any human interference in my life, friends and family included. I once had my cousin imprisoned to protect my business interests. He was family, someone who had worked with me for many years. He was someone I did owe a lot to. In your case you don’t have those advantages.”

 

“Do I have enough goodwill in your book to merit a conversation of ten minutes, in private, in peace? Please. Even if that’s too much to ask, I am asking. Ten minutes is all I need.”

 

***

 

“So that is why I did what I did,” John said at the end of the monologue, which had continued well into twenty-five minutes instead of the promised ten, “I was helping someone in need, someone I just like a lot and want to protect, against a predator who’s lying to the entire world and destroying a young life as if it means less than a caterpillar on the tree trunk. I have no ulterior motives at all, none whatsoever. It’s not like Sherlock will give me a share of his fortunes or I take any pleasure in seeing you lose a deal and some money along with it. I am the same man Seb, the same doctor who……”

 

“Who saved my life in Afghanistan,” Sebastian replied, “I hear you. Still, it beats me why you didn’t tell me all of this before.”

 

“I wish I did,” John confessed, “But I do also know that I wouldn’t have. Had you asked me about Sherlock, had you not come across as someone threatening and intimidating but as a friend who had visited my house to have a chat with me, I would have probably told you everything. I might have even asked you for a little help because the likes of Walter Dunne just needed a few raps on the knuckles and maybe a good solid kick on the rear. But you came home, threw veiled threats at me, then installed a surveillance team there. I lost confidence.”

 

“Unbelievable,” Sebastian was clearly shocked, “You’re not the least bit afraid. You’re risking your life and everything you have for a stranger? You know I could easily destroy you, right?”

 

They heard a door open and close and the next moment a soft, melodic voice spoke in a thick Dublin accent. “That’s because he loves him, silly.”

 

To John’s further shock, Sebastian jumped up as if he’d just seen the Minotaur. Instead of that, Jim was standing there in an expensive Westwood suit, a Versace tie, a Cartier watch around his wrist and a bemused expression on his attractive, radiant face. “That is because Dr. John Watson here is in love with that man Sherlock Holmes,” the Irishman repeated, “They’re not strangers anymore.”

 

“Jim babe,” Sebastian found his voice a full minute later, “I-I am just finishing some work….”

 

“Then stop the work and listen to me,” Jim’s voice suddenly changed, it grew slightly deeper, much harder, rough at the edges and a wee bit cruel, “I speak not as your fiancé and partner but as your boss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jim is the underworld boss and Sebastian's employer - Well, not that big a surprise! But a slightly kinder Jim hopefully is :)


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally John gets to see the light at the end of the tunnel. In the meantime Sherlock wonders if he is in love with John.

John had never seen Sebastian so compromised before. The lion with the golden mane became a tame pussycat for a moment before the beast in him roared again. “Jimmy, I love you very much and trust me I can explain everything later. But this is no time for jokes. I am in the middle of something that can’t be put off for later and since it involves a friend I have to……”

 

“Don’t talk back to me you MORON.”

 

Sebastian gasped and even John, who was not easily scared, shuddered on hearing the condescending and somewhat sinister tone. Though soft and measured, there was something about this tone and accent that told him Jim was not to be taken lightly. There was something dark and totally terrifying in his beautiful eyes, eyes which no longer looked benign. John stepped back in haste, nearly knocking off a photo frame placed on a table. Sebastian on the other hand made no further mistakes and went down on his knees before the much smaller man, in a gesture of apology and submission.

 

“Boss, I am…I had no idea….I….”

 

“Yes, I am the spider. Our code is #Magpie&Tiger.”

 

“Fuck you ARE the boss.”

 

“Yeah. I am a voice artist and can camouflage my voice to sound different every time.”

 

Sebastian looked embarrassed, “And I thought you make different people speak on your behalf, so nobody recognizes your voice and can’t ever identify you.”

 

Jim grinned like a cool cat, “That is the reason you idiot. Now get up. A man looks good like this only on two occasions. When he is proposing or when he’s fellating and you’re doing neither of those things right now. Get up for Christ’s sake.”

 

John watched the exchange, speechless as Sebastian got up obediently. He had never imagined that he’d get to witness such a big reveal with his own eyes and ears and see a virile giant like Sebastian look so utterly vulnerable and meek. Clearly his boss, namely the most dangerous criminal mastermind in the world, was not to be measured by the inches he carried vertically. Not more than five feet eight, he was barely an inch and half taller than John, but his words and his intelligence carried more than enough pounds and inches to make up for his slender ballet-danceresque build.

 

“John,” Jim looked at the doctor, “I know all about that Dunne fellow and about your William Sherlock Scott Holmes too. Your man is safe and secure, nobody will pursue him now except for you. Now go and put a ring on him.”

 

John’s heart leapt with joy but he kept his hopes low and his delight controlled. “I am not really in love with him J….I mean Mr. Moriarty,” he tried to argue.

 

“Oh yes you are,” Jim replied in a merry tone, winking at him.

 

John found his cheeks heat up while Sebastian still looked shocked, as if he had swallowed a frog. Jim Moriarty, in his new avatar, looked cool as a cucumber as he evidently enjoyed their surprised expressions and even savored the discomfiture they were feeling. A man who liked to be in control and create shock waves, John deduced this fact and wondered how many more such facts could be unraveled under the keen eye of Sherlock who was gifted with the power of observation and deductive reasoning. A totally innocent, harmless young man who was so pretty one could almost see a tiara on his head, turning out to be the most feared crime boss on planet Earth. How absurdly unsettling was that!

 

“Okay,” John admitted defeat, “Maybe I am. You are right.”

 

“I always am,” Jim spoke with the ease of a man who was unafraid of anything or anyone.

 

“If I may ask….”

 

“Go on, ask.”

 

“Um….I was…..um….”

 

“Christ’s sake, I don’t have all day. Can’t you see I have a petrified and pouting tiger to appease?”

 

“Oh, yes, of course, yes. I just wanted to know, how did you even find out what was going on here and why would a man of your stature even get his fingers dirty on this? I mean, you must have empowered Sebastian on far more dangerous jobs than this, then why follow a trail here and overrule his decision. It might have worked in my favor but I’d be really thankful to you if I am allowed to know why.”

 

Jim looked at him through narrowed eyes, “You are braver than I thought. Well, I won’t let you know how I found out about this job because no mastermind tells anyone the truth behind his tricks. But I can tell you why I intervened. You see, Sebby wanted to ensure I never got to know there was a deficit in the payments we were supposed to receive from our clients. So he took up an odd job like this without my permission and kept me out of the loop.”

 

“I didn’t mean to….” Sebastian mumbled, “I am sorry.”

 

“Don’t jump the gun,” Jim looked cross, “Let me finish.”

 

Sebastian swallowed. It was odd to see someone as formidable as him so terrorized.

 

“As I was saying John,” Jim continued, “I have ensured we have the money we need. In fact we have twice the amount, nearly twenty million. And no, we haven’t taken that out of your pretty young lover’s estate. I wiped clean Walter’s Swiss bank account using one of my age old tricks of code breaking and hacking. So we have the money recovered, an additional sum in case we wish to buy a yacht or something for Sebby and we can drop this work. I am not being holier than thou but I do have some principles when it comes to my work.”

 

“You’re amazing,” John said truthfully.

 

“Aren’t I?” Jim looked pleased as punch and his dark brown eyes glowed like twin jewels, “I kind of agree with that statement because I hear it very often and especially from those who needn’t suck up to me. As for the principles I spoke about, I prefer for my clients to tell us the truth and not pretend to be dame goody two shoes while sinning thoroughly in the background. This arsehole Walter Dunne should have told my men the truth. But he didn’t. Guess why, so we don’t ask for a bigger sum than he was ready to offer. I don’t take too kindly to such behavior and lack of integrity. What’s the guarantee he won’t try and stab us in the back tomorrow, get Sebastian into trouble to cover his own arse.”

 

“Goodness,” Sebastian exclaimed, “You did this for me?”

 

“I had to,” Jim replied, “I was planning to tell you Tiger, in a few days I would have….”

 

“You really love me Jimmy…..sorry, boss.”

 

“Boss during work hours but Jimmy when we are home. Yes, I do love you, you emotional fool. You’re the only person in this world who makes my hard edges soften, you’re the only one who made me want something other than money and power, you’re the only one I love.”

 

“Oh God, my kitten, I love youuuu!”

 

“Mmmm, my tigerrr!”

 

“Kitten meaaoww!”

 

“Grrrrrr….roaarrr!”

 

John had to think of all sorts of tragic scenarios in order to control his laughter. When he finally managed he cleared his throat loudly. Jim and Sebastian, now engaged in some canoodling, stopped and looked at him with goofy grins on their faces. “You’re still here,” Jim frowned.

 

“Yes,” John said happily, “Just wanted to say ‘thank you very much’. I’ll go get Sherlock now.”

 

“Do that,” Sebastian said, “As for Walter Dunne, we will take care of him.”

 

“Ensure he never hurts anyone else,” Jim laughed, “Act like the good guys for a change.”

 

As John walked out, he heard Sebastian calling Scotland Yard and asking for an inspector named Phil Andersen, someone he knew and someone he could use to get Walter Dunne behind the bars with complete evidence of his shit. “God bless them both, no matter who they are and what they do for a living,” John murmured as he left the house where he had been brought in less than an hour ago by Sebastian. None of the armed guards stopped him.

 

***

 

Sherlock stared at his phone, tense and anxious, willing it to ring at least once. He had been waiting for John to call or text but the man had been incommunicado all day. Usually he called twice and sent at least half a dozen texts to Sherlock everyday but that day had been a total lockdown on communications. Whenever Sherlock tried John’s phone it was either switched off or kept ringing. There were no texts from him and Sherlock very prudently decided not to text in case the enemy traced him out through that text and came over to harass him in Edinburgh. No, he couldn’t afford that.

 

“He will call when he has to,” Kelly said encouragingly as she pushed a glass of milk shake into his hands, “You’ve had no lunch. Please drink this up young man. I don’t want John to question my hospitality.”

 

Sherlock took a few polite sips and sighed out shudderingly. Slowly his mind was beginning to conjure all kinds of wrongs that might have happened to John and he found it difficult to distract himself from such thoughts. Funnily enough, the biggest fear he had was not of being traced and captured by Walter and dragged back to hell but of not seeing John again. “Not again Kelly,” he confessed, “I don’t want to lose someone close to me again. My wounds are still fresh, I still remember the day I heard about mummy and daddy, and to lose John will be….”

 

“Oh no you don’t,” Kelly stopped him, “Don’t even say those words. You shouldn’t. Positive thoughts honey, please!”

 

“I can’t,” Sherlock sighed, “Too many things have gone wrong of late….”

 

“Doesn’t mean they will continue to go wrong. Don’t let your brilliant mind play tricks on you.”

 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

 

“Promise me when he’s here, safe and sound, you’ll tell him the truth.”

 

“What truth?”

 

“That you love him.”

 

Sherlock startled. _Love? He was in love? Was all of this about love? Was he alone in this or did John love him too? What had he missed? Why hadn’t he realized he was falling for John? What if John was only sympathetic towards him and being a kind soul in times of crisis? Tomorrow when things improved he could very well just wish Sherlock the best and move on! Damn, why was it so easy to figure out people’s habits and habitat from one look but so difficult to find out the matters of their hearts despite being with them for days and nights?_

 

“I am not sure about that,” he let the words out before he could stop himself.

 

“Men in denial of their feelings make for the cutest and most clueless creatures on earth,” Kelly laughed, “You’re too young, hence I thought I’d have a word with you instead of letting you figure it all out on your own. Sherlock, I might be a woman in her fifties but I am not an outdated piece of antique with half a brain. I clearly see love here, from both sides. I also know you and he are not partners. You’re in some trouble and he’s sorting it out for you, isn’t it? That’s so John, he likes to help others, hat’s why he decided to become a doctor. But even for a generous man like him this is a bit too much. Nobody does all this unless they have feelings.”

 

“I’ll think about it,” Sherlock said in a small voice, “Thanks Kelly.”

 

Kelly ruffled his hairs and said, “You’re welcome. Dinner is in an hour and half, kay?”

 

“Sure.”

 

Sherlock wondered if sleeping with someone automatically meant they had to be in love. But in spite of thinking hard and looking at matters from all possible angles, he couldn’t think of any rational answer. Yes, he was in love with John but no, there was no guarantee John was in love with him. Not even by a mile. Maybe Kelly just liked to do some matchmaking in her spare time.

 

He heard the doorbell ring but gave it no importance. He heard the front door open and, thinking Kelly had some visitors, shut the door to his bedroom and sank down on the bed. Better give the hostess her space to entertain her visitors. Less than half a minute later the door crashed open and Sherlock got up and bunched his fists together in combat position, fast as a hare and fierce as a viper.

 

“Hold it,” John stood there with a beaming smile on his face, “This is no way to greet old pals.”

 

“Jawn!!!”

 

“Sherling!!!”

 

They rushed into each other’s arms but before they could kiss, they heard an impatient knock on the door, followed by Kelly’s voice calling out. “Sherlock, you have a visitor, you need to come out now.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A surprise visitor, an unexpected revelation and John decides to walk away

“You stay here,” John said cautiously and somewhat fiercely as he whipped out a gun from his pocket, “I’ll handle this.”

 

“No John,” Sherlock objected this time, “You’ve handled enough on your own. Whoever it is that’s arrived at our doorstep this time, we shall handle him together. Come on, I will accompany you downstairs. I’ll take them on, any number of them.”

 

“Very well then,” John was not sure of this but had to give in to Sherlock when he noticed how keen the younger man was to be involved in things this time, “But stay behind me, okay?” He opened the door, expecting to find Kelly standing there, all tensed up, but she was nowhere to be seen. They heard Kelly and Ian’s voices downstairs and those of several other men, but the words were not decipherable. Sherlock clutched at John’s arm and stopped him but John shook his head. “No Lockie, we need to take this head on. If this is Walter or his men, I am going to blow all of their brains out, end of story.”

 

“And then you go to jail?” Sherlock was dismayed, “What’s the smartness in that? Let’s run.”

 

“No,” John said firmly, “You won’t run again and I won’t run this time. Sometimes a small crisis can be avoided by running away but we then run straight into the arms of a larger disaster. Whatever it is, whoever it is, we will not run away from it but face it and kill it once and for all. You don’t want to leave Kelly and Ian in the jaws of monsters do you? Imagine what those monsters can do to them if we run away and they suspect Kelly aided us in that flight?”

 

Sherlock nodded, “You’re right. We can’t run.”

 

“Come on, if you’re with me I am braver than usual.”

 

“Same way here Jawn.”

 

John looked at Sherlock through mesmerized eyes, wondering how he had gotten so lucky, and gave his right shoulder a light squeeze of assurance. Together they sprang inside the dining room and their jaws dropped to the floor.

 

Ian was in good spirits and pouring brandy into a visitor’s coffee while Kelly was all smiles as she served coffee into the cups for three other visitors. They were all laughing and chatting like good friends though the outfits those men wore made in abundantly clear they couldn’t be the ‘friends’ of the couple who shared this house. They wore Burberry’s and Prada’s.

 

Then one of those men turned and Sherlock let out an audible gasp. John could see shock, surprise, happiness and a feeling of being overwhelmed written large on the faces of both the men. There was also a certain similarity in their facial features and the wan complexion.

 

“Mycroft!!!”

 

“Lockie!!”

 

That was when John got the entire picture. This was none other than Sherlock’s elder sibling Mycroft Holmes, a man who had left their house years ago and was never heard of again. He had been presumed and feared as deceased and the Holmes family had stopped looking for him quite some time ago. Now the same man, who had apparently done very well for himself, was sitting a few feet away and very much alive and healthy. John began to notice the similarities and differences between the two brothers, now that he had a grandstand view of both of them in close quarters. The elder Holmes’ lopsided smile reminded John of Sherlock and his smiles, as did their imposing height and refined manners. But Sherlock was definitely leaner, handsomer and had a more longish face and nose. Mycroft had thinning hairs at the front as compared to his younger brother’s bouncy curls.

 

John watched, eyes wide, as the two brothers stepped closer. Clearly they were awkward, having never been very close, yet there was joy on the visage at the pleasant and unexpected reconnection after several years. Mycroft half-stretched out his arms for a hug while Sherlock extended his right hand for a handshake, then Sherlock held out his arms and Mycroft almost comically mirrored Sherlock’s earlier gesture and extended his right hand for a shake.

 

Finally, smiling a bit coyly, they shook hands and Mycroft slapped Sherlock on the shoulder lightly before saying, “You’ve grown taller but still you’re shorter than me brother mine.”

 

“Thank God for small mercies like height,” Sherlock returned the roguish humor, “Makes up for the lack of hairs.”

 

This time they exchanged a slight and quick hug while the others, John Watson included, laughed out aloud at the jokes. It was only then that John noticed that one of the men present happened to be Gregory Lestrade, detective inspector from Scotland Yard and his old acquaintance. Unlike the others who were dressed to the nines, Lestrade wore normal clothes one would wear to work.

 

“How?” Sherlock asked after a prolonged silence.

 

“Long story,” Mycroft said, “Let’s discuss over a cup of tea.”

 

“I think we should give them the study, what say darling?” Kelly looked at Ian.

 

“Oh yes, of course, this way gentlemen,” Ian ushered the two men out.

 

John was about to follow when Lestrade stepped in front and said, “No doc. Not this time. They’re meeting after six years I think and they should be given their time alone. I suppose both have a lot of catching up to do, Myc has a lot of explaining to do as well.”

 

Suddenly feeling very isolated, John said, “I would have like to know what Mycroft has to say as well. How did he just show up from nowhere? Where the hell was he when Sherlock was on the brink of a breakdown? Where was he when the poor boy was alone and under house arrest, being drugged up and emotionally tortured? Wait a moment, did you call Mycroft Holmes as Myc? Did you?”

 

Lestrade quickly ushered John out of the room, “Let’s go and talk in the garden.”

 

***

 

“Mycroft Holmes is part of MI6 John, he is part of British intelligence and was a war spy as well as a negotiator with other double agents who play in the same field,” Greg Lestrade explained, “You’ll be surprised to know that he didn’t leave his family after a clash of ideologies or a quarrel with his father, he left because he had to go on a long-term assignment out of the country. He was not allowed to share the specifics therefore he had to make it seem like a family feud. But his dad knew and the old man carried that secret to the grave with himself.”

 

“Christ,” John grasped the edge of a garden chair, “Just like a Hollywood potboiler.”

 

“Well, life imitates art and art imitates life,” Greg Lestrade replied with a wistful smile, “He went through hell when he learned of his parents’ death and applied for a return to homeland, even at the cost of his job. As you might be aware, such decisions go to the defense minister and several other security council members and take a long time to be finalized and formally announced. Myc wanted to come back so he could look after Sherlock and be his support at their darkest hour. Finally he got the permission.”

 

“You said Myc again,” John wondered.

 

“You won’t give up on that?” Greg snorted.

 

“Evidently not Lestrade.”

 

“He and I are in a relationship for a year. Believe me, I am the happiest he is back. Otherwise the whole long distance thing wasn’t too rosy.”

 

“Hmmm, so congratulations then. But….one thing beats me, how did you guys show up here?”

 

“Sebastian Moran called me to give me the specifics about Walter Dunne. When I looked through the details and saw Sherlock’s name, I instantly told Myc. We found out where he was and followed you closely to reach this house. That’s it, that’s all there is to say.”

 

John nodded. Then, “Wait a moment, what about Walter? Is he behind bars or not?”

 

“Very much so. We haven’t shown his arrest so he can’t employ a lawyer. By the time we announce it and let him hire one, our case would be so strong and so waterproof that it would be a non-bailable case and Mr. Dunne will have to go to court. Once there, he has little or no chances of getting away. A conviction is guaranteed. Life sentence will be the minimum punishment for him.”

 

“Very good,” John replied, “By the way…..”

 

“You know,” Lestrade interrupted John, looking rather excited and delighted at the same time, “Things are really looking up for Sherlock now. Not only is he safe, not only is that bastard behind bars, not only has he been reunited with his beloved elder brother, he will soon be reunited with his fiancé. That fellow had been trying his best to trace Sherlock and landed up in London three days ago looking for him. He even met the family lawyer who had already logged a criminal case against Dunne at a local station, days before before we even got a whiff of the case here. He truly worried for Sherlock, nice bloke I’d say.”

 

_I worried for him too, I risked all to save him. Oh well……_

 

“John? John?”

 

Lestrade clicked his fingers before John’s dazed eyes. John blinked and looked at him, “What?”

 

“Where were you?”

 

“I…um…How….how is Victor Trevor?”

 

“Fine looking fellow, very polished and sophisticated, intelligent too. Only four years older than Sherlock but already climbing the ladder of social and professional success. Their families have known each other for a long time and it is Victor’s elder brother whom Sherlock had tried to reach out to when he first landed in London. Oh by the way, Mike Stamford told me that. We met him before we left London.”

 

“Yes,” John swallowed hard as he remembered, “I recall that. I mean, I recall he was trying to visit someone’s house.”

 

“They are in love, Victor and Sherlock. I mean, I saw that fellow in London this morning and it’s because of Mycroft’s sheer persuasion skills that he didn’t show up here along with us. Myc wanted to savor this moment of reunion with the only surviving family member he has without someone else’s presence diluting the effect. If Victor had been here I am sure Sherlock would have been too excited to give his elder brother his complete attention.”

 

_Too excited, they are in love, fine looking fellow, families know each other._

 

John’s head reeled as he absorbed the words.

 

Suddenly he remembered that morning when Sherlock and he had had breakfast together and then he had tried his best to make Sherlock stay with him but the young genius had insisted upon visiting his acquaintance. Now he knew it was Victor’s brother. That could mean only one thing – while Sherlock had leaned heavily on him in times of stress and crisis, his first preference for refuge and support was his boyfriend and the latter’s family.

 

_And people always turned to those they love and trust the most._

 

“Of course,” John smiled broadly, “Of course I get it now, I get it fully, I get the complete picture.” He noticed how Greg Lestrade’s eyebrows rose on seeing his sudden change of demeanor and extra cheerfulness and quickly added, “I am saying this because I was worried how he’d cope with the aftermath of such a traumatic event in his life. Now I know he is in safe hands, he is with the right people and that means I can finally get on with my life. While I did all I could to help him, this whole situation made me take day after day off from my duties as a surgeon and that’s really not a done thing. I can’t wait to head back to London and to my duties.”

 

“I can understand.”

 

“In fact, right away.”

 

“What? You’re leaving now?”

 

“Yes, there is a text about a complicated surgery where I am supposed to assist. Will you sat goodbye to Sherlock for me?”

 

Lestrade looked bewildered as John quickly walked down the garden path. He had no idea the man had tears in his eyes and didn’t want those to be seen. “Wait John,” the DI called out, “Won’t you at least say goodbye to Sherlock in person? I mean, he genuinely owes you a lot and I am sure he’ll be appalled if he finds out that you left just like that.”

 

“No, duty calls. Give my best to him and his fiancé Victor.”

 

“They aren’t engaged yet but soon…..”

 

“See you Lestrade. Thanks for everything.”

 

“You sure no one else can replace you for just one more day John?”

 

“No, afraid not.”

 

“How strange,” Lestrade murmured as he observed how John literally ran down the street and disappeared from his line of sight within moments.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting together.....JohnLock and Mormor

“Sebbyyyyy Tigerrrr!!!”

 

“Mmmm….gnnnn….hnnnn….sluuurrrp!”

 

Jim Moriarty had never felt so helpless nor had he begged like this ever before in life. But when you had your arms and ankles tied to the four bed posts, a vibrating toy up your arse and your hot fiancé’s mouth over your rigid erection there was precious little you could do. Except to moan and plead and beg and hope your lover took pity on you and finally let you cum. But Sebastian was not letting his boss/lover go that easily. Still in shock-anger-stupor-disbelief over the discovery of his boss’s identity, he had devised a very unique way to get back at him. An evening of sex, marathon sex, sex where he was going to be the DOM.

 

“Please Sebby, please make me cum.”

 

Sebastian only chuckled around his mouthful.

 

“FUCK,” Jim screamed, “Oh yeah fuck!”

 

Sebastian had swallowed him from root to tip but also slipped on a cock ring. Now Jim couldn’t cum even if he was allowed to.

 

Not that Jim had not cum enough number of times. Once from being rimmed and jerked off at the same time, once from being fucked, once from an earlier blowjob, he was three down already in two hours. After a half hour nap he had been woken in this state, a state Sebastian had kept him in for almost half an hour, on the edge and not being permitted to climax. From the sounds he made it was clear that Jim needed this orgasm more than the air he was breathing in right now.

 

“Sebby baby I am sorry,” Jim cried out tearfully, “Please let me cum.”

 

Even tough brutes like Sebastian had their limits. After hearing Jim beg so unabashedly he decided to have mercy on him. He snapped off the cock ring and sank down on Jim’s cock in one smooth and forceful motion, causing the smaller man to tug hard at his bondage and cry out so loud that the entire street had to have heard. But it occurred to Sebastian that Jim owned all buildings on this street and the only people around were his bodyguards and staff, who resided in different apartments and cottages scattered through the narrow and short street. They were paid very well to be discreet.

 

“Uh-Uh-Uhhhh,” Jim groaned as he thrust up into the tight heat of his man.

 

“You beg so pretty, I had to agree,” Seb said as he began to move up and down, causing Jim to moan out loudly again.

 

***

 

“So, all well now?” Jim yawned as he looked up from Sebastian’s chest, blinking heavily as he woke up from a deep post coital sleep, “Happy finally? Or are you still angry with me?”

 

He looked around and said, “Gosh, it is morning. I passed out after our last time, what time was it then, around seven or so. And it’s past six now. Did I really sleep that long? I also skipped dinner, no wonder I am getting peck-ish.”

 

Sebastian took a deep breath and cradled Jim closer, kissing the top of his head. “Believe me Jimmy, I can never be angry at you, not for too long anyways. Yes, I was angry before but when I pondered over the situation I had to admit that at every step you always demonstrated your love for me. Let me think of a recent incident, about a year ago. One fine evening you made me pass out after a fuck session so intense, I was unconscious for an hour. I missed a heist I was planning in collaboration with a Serbian team and that very heist went bad. Everyone who was part of it got shot or captured and some are still rotting in a jail. You stopped me deliberately, didn’t you?”

 

“Duhhh.”

 

“You looked after me when I got shot. And silly me never questioned you how you got to know I was shot. Only my boss knew and….”

 

“I was always your boss. Boss in bed, boss of your heart, boss at home.”

 

“The only missing piece was work and I found out you were boss there too.”

 

Sebastian climbed over Jim’s slender body, littered with bruises and scratches from their previous night, and kissed the tip of his nose. Jim parted his legs and wrapped them around Sebastian’s hips, smiling in a naughty manner. “I was testing you,” the mastermind said, “I pretended to be a normal young man and tried to get close to you, to get to know you up close and also to see if you were truly loyal to me. But then I fell in love and the whole scenario just changed overnight.”

 

“Will this change anything?” Sebastian’s blue eyes looked pleading, insecure.

 

“Nope,” Jim returned confidently “We continue as is.”

 

“No, we must not.”

 

“What?”

 

“Now that I know who you are, I can’t risk your life and what we have as a couple. Anyone who loves me will always be a target of our rivals, enemies and even MI5. How about we move to Canada and build a base there, where we can both be nameless and faceless and hire a new Sebastian to take on the business? How does that sound my little muffin?”

 

“Muffin?” Jim laughed out loud, “Oh well, this sounds fabulous.”

 

***

 

Sherlock was shocked out of his five senses when he heard about John’s sudden and expected departure. He ran out into the garden, hoping Greg was bluffing, and came back inside looking as if he had lost his whole world. “What did you say to him Greg?” He demanded to know, “What did you say which made him flee as if there was a pack of wolves on his tail? I know John, he would have never abandoned me and left for London, especially since he came all the way from the very same city barely an hour and half ago.”

 

Ian and Kelly understood but John had already texted them. He had begged them to stay quiet. So they did.

 

Mycroft Holmes was initially caught between supporting his boyfriend and partner and taking up for his baby brother. But Sherlock’s distress and literally broken condition made him choose sides. He decided to console Sherlock and also support Greg and pin the blame on John Watson instead. “Greg told him about you and Victor and I think that’s what made him leave,” he whispered so nobody else could hear, “Maybe he felt he had overstepped some line and was too embarrassed to face you again. Or perhaps he was planning on something like…..getting some funds from you and after seeing me decided not to tread that path.”

 

“Rubbish. He is the last likely person to attach any importance to wealth.”

 

“Did you guys have sex Sherlock?”

 

“Yeah, yes we did, so?”

 

“God. Then there must be some confusion. Do you love Vic or do you fancy John?”

 

Sherlock’s eyes were bright with unshed tears. His lower lip was wobbling.

 

Mycroft pulled him into a genuine hug this time, “I am so sorry Lockie. It was me who told Greg about you and Vic and when Greg met Vic he was convinced it was an established relationship. Guess I shouldn’t have jumped the gun, considering the fact that I had been away so long.”

 

“I am sorry too,” Lestrade replied with genuine regret, “I should have kept my mouth shut. Actually John is a good guy. A competent doctor, a compassionate man, a caring friend. I am sure Victor will understand.”

 

“Vic has to accept,” Mycroft said, “My brother will now do what his heart tells him to do.”

 

Greg smiled, “I agree. Look at me, I was married to a woman and living in the closest, forcing myself to think I was like every other bloke on the street, until I realized that being gay didn’t make me irregular. I was just different. This is a critical juncture in Sherlock’s life and if his happiness lies with John then he should be supported. I am sorry Myc, I had no idea these two had feelings for each other.”

 

“Even if I had reservations about John earlier,” Mycroft said with a slight nod, “I have none anymore. John is a decent and kind man, very rare in today’s world. What he just did was to facilitate Sherlock’s happiness and to get him back into his familiar circle of friends and relatives. He wasn’t being selfish or looking out for himself, he was looking out for Sherlock yet again. Someone like him is the perfect partner for my brother, someone who would always put him first in the relationship. Come on, let’s call John and ask him to come back here so we can clear the air.”

 

“His phone is switched off,” Ian said, “I think he’s decided to go incommunicado now.”

 

“So what?” Sherlock was defiant, “I will go and look for him in his flat.” He nodded hard, as if to himself, “I know where he lives.”

 

“Of course we will,” Mycroft noticed how his brother had gone blank, “We’ll head to London right away. Thanks Kelly, thanks Ian, words cannot describe how indebted I am. You looked after my sibling when I wasn’t even available in the country to support him. Thank you!”

 

As they stepped out of the house, Sherlock twisted Mycroft’s arm behind his back. The elder Holmes winced with pain and yelped, “What the hell are you doing?”

 

“This is to remind you that should you choose to disappear once more, I will snap your neck. You may be taller but I am and always will be much stronger physically than you. British intelligence my left foot.”

 

He spat on the ground and stomped off. Mycroft massaged his shoulder and elbow joins and looked on with a bemused smiled on his face. Greg Lestrade had watched this happen but decided not to intervene in a ‘sibling matter’, but once Sherlock had walked ahead he quickly caught up with his partner. “He does seem to have a fiery temper,” the DI commented, “Must be careful.”

 

“Nah, he had every right to do that,” Mycroft smiled, “I deserved it. But yeah, he is a brat!”

 

***

 

John got up for the fourth straight day to the sounds of his name being called out on the PAS.

_‘Doctor John Hamish Watson you are urgently needed in Room 5 on fourth floor, research wing. Repeat, Dr. Watson please report urgently to Room No 5 on fourth floor, in the research and analysis wing.’_

 

“Public Announcement System, how I love your wake-up call,” he grumbled, stretching his limbs and staggering into the bathroom to splash some water on his face. He saw that their pool secretary Julie, who worked as an admin support to four surgeons along with John, has left him a toothbrush and toothpaste, shaving items, a towel and some coffee in a thermos. There was also a plate of cookies and an apple next to it. She had noticed that he had been living out of the hospital for four days running and tried to make his life a bit comfortable. John quickly brushed his teeth, sprayed some deodorant on himself, ignored the shaving items and quickly downed a cup of coffee with a cookie. The rest would have to wait even though he wished he could take a bath.

 

He walked past nurses, doctors, visitors and patients like a zombie. He had not slept for more than four hours each day and worked like a maniac, just so he could forget everything and just breathe, only breathe. Sherlock’s absence in his life was suffocating him. But the stress was getting to him, as was the depression that had taken over. He had heard about people going crazy or severely depressed owing to a separation from their partner or people committing suicide if they lost their first and true love, never had he imagined himself in that situation.

 

And now he was going through it.

 

When you are going through hell, keep going. You will reach the end of the dark tunnel.

 

John kept talking, muttering and whispering to himself, ignoring the few surprised looks that were thrown in his direction. He was a doctor, therefore people would have assumed he was busy with his cases, and nobody really called him out for it.

 

He reached the designated door and opened it, expecting to see the HOD Pearl Kalra sitting there. But instead of her, he saw someone else.

 

He blinked, rubbed his eyes, blinked and then closed his eyes completely. No, this couldn’t be true. He was seeing things again. For the past few days he had been seeing the same man everywhere. In doctors, patients, visitors, even in inanimate objects like tables and mirrors.

 

“John.”

 

“No,” John groaned, “Not only am I seeing things, I am hearing things too.”

 

“I am not a thing Jawn.”

 

“SHERLING!!!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter of JohnLock goodness before we wrap this up. Thanks for reading, the kudos and comments!


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a lot of storm and rain, a rainbow ending for our boys!

In John’s eyes Sherlock had always been a very beautiful, gorgeous man, but never before had he looked this ravishing. With his green eyes sparkling like emeralds, his bow-shaped lips parted and letting out a stream of moans, his alabaster skin flushed with a roseate glow, his thick tendrils of glossy dark mane falling around his face like a coronet, he appeared more demi-God than human. John couldn’t take his eyes off his man, not even for a second.

 

“Oh Jawn,” Sherlock bowed his back as a particularly well-aimed thrust hit his sweet spot.

 

“That’s the sweet little spot huh,” John kissed his young lover all over the flushed face, “The little treasure inside you?” When Sherlock nodded hard and his cheeks grew redder with that admission, John licked hot stripes on those prominent cheekbones and whispered, “A treasure within a treasure! Yes, that’s what it is! You are my treasure chest darling, my Lockie, my Sherling, my Sherlock, God I love you so much I can’t even find the words to say……” he trailed off, suddenly overwhelmed by his emotions. He was so happy he felt his heart might just burst out of his chest.

 

Another hit and a stream of clear slick came out of Sherlock’s stiff prick.

 

“Fuck that’s sexy,” John hissed and sped up, slowly moving towards that point of no return. He wanted to continue, wanted to enjoy this longer, but his body was betraying him big time. It wanted release right now. The pleasure was too much, way too much!

 

“I-I am gonna….” Sherlock grabbed John’s hand and guided it to his cock.

 

“You’re close, aren’t you?” John asked. He was beginning to shake all over.

 

Sherlock was shaking too. He turned his head from side to side, shuddering and moaning so loud John was afraid Mrs. Hudson might break the door down to come inside and check on their wellbeing.

 

“What do you want love?” John asked in a tight voice, praying to all the Gods he knew that he shouldn’t lose it before his lover did. Although both had cum once already, their self-controls were seriously compromised that day. This reunion had been so unexpected and so joyous that none of them knew how to keep a check on their bodies or their minds anymore. They were flying together, higher, still higher.

 

“Touch me….down there, please, just touch me there and….here,” Sherlock threw an arm over his face as he spoke these words, clearly shy.

 

 _I’ll have to teach him to shed inhibitions and voice out his needs_ , John thought with a broad smile. “Sure Sherling.”

 

John let Sherlock stroke himself to completion while he played with the man’s nipples and balls, squeezing and pinching and rubbing them. Sherlock’s body convulsed suddenly and the upper half shot up from the mattress by a sheer force of a muscular spasm.

 

The next moment spurt after spurt of semen shot out his cock and he created a huge racket, nearly kicking John away in a moment of pure ecstasy. He shook and shuddered like he was having a seizure before he stilled completely, lying there like a spent lamb.

 

John couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He had to cum and he didn’t want to cum inside his lover this time, he wanted to cum all over him. He pulled out, groaning as he did so, and climbed up Sherlock’s body. The younger man instantly recognized the need and turned his face up, staring at his lover adoringly as John began to jerk himself to completion. Straddling his Sherlock’s face, knees planted on either side of the latter’s head, his turgid manhood hung inches above Sherlock’s lips as he jerked off, loud moans and grunts escaping him. It was coming, it was bound to happen any moment now, he just needed one last little stimulation.

 

Sherlock stuck his tongue out and licked the slit.

 

John screamed out like a man possessed and Sherlock a proper ‘facial’.

 

***

 

“So, why did you try to hide from me?”

 

Sherlock asked sleepily, lying in John’s arms and still panting a little from their tumultuous orgasm.

 

John took a deep breath and let it out in a tremulous sigh. “Forget it Lockie,” he admitted with a fair share of embarrassment and regret, “I shouldn’t have done what I did. I thought I was going to become a wall between two people in love and I didn’t want you to be with me because I had helped you out. The last thing I wanted was to become your man out of compulsion and not choice. I didn’t want you to choose me because you felt compelled to give me something back for all we went through earlier.”

 

“Gosh,” Sherlock sounded downbeat, “You thought I was that sort of person.”

 

“No Lockie, I didn’t mean to say that. I just didn’t want you to be torn between gratitude and love.”

 

“If I was in love with Vic I would have told you earlier.”

 

“I realize that now. As I said, my bad. I should have at least met you and talked this out. But how did you land up at the hospital?”

 

“Duh. If you weren’t at home or with Mike or any of the known joints then there was just one place left to look into. Your workplace. I hadn’t thought it was humanly possible to stay there for four days though. How did you even manage it?”

 

“With a lot of difficulty and desperation,” John laughed, thinking about the course of events in the past few hours.

 

After seeing Sherlock waiting for him in that meeting room, John had been shocked out of his five senses. He had not even imagined in his wildest dreams that this dreamboat of a man, so young and fresh and good-looking, could actually leave all that was familiar and cushy and comfortable to actually trace him out in the antiseptic smelling hospital he worked in. Sherlock could have lived happily ever after with Victor, he could have just partied the next few nights away to celebrate his enemy being brought to justice, he could have taken over the family fortune and started spending it already. Yet he was here, at the hospital, just to see John.

 

The look of happiness in those green eyes, the warmth in that hug, the excited soft panting breaths he took, they all spoke of genuine delight and relief in seeing John. It was at that moment that John felt a veil lift over his eyes and give him remarkable clarity. Sherlock was not here to thank him or because he felt sorry for him, he was here because he wanted to be with him. He wasn’t here to pay him a visit and move on, he was here to stay.

 

Mike had arrived to announce that John had that day and the next whole day off. _‘You did double shifts for four and half days, that means you worked enough for a week. Go take a couple of days off and be with each other.’_

 

John had thanked him and quickly exited the building with Sherlock, holding hands and walking closely together. Even the simplest of touches set their loins on fire and even John had to admit how much he missed the physical part of their relationship. He had to reunite properly with his ‘Lockie’, come what may!

 

One look at Sherlock’s tented trousers told him he was not alone in this and the clear lust-filled love radiated by Sherlock’s nearly caused him to cream his pants.

 

“Take me home,” Sherlock had mumbled.

 

“Home,” John had repeated, feeling warm inside, “Yes love, we will go home.”

 

They had been all over each other in the car and had it not been for the cabbie nearly running over a pedestrian (because he couldn’t stop looking at them through the rear-view mirror), they would have perhaps started off right there. Somehow they had managed to sober up till they were dropped at the familiar street and more or less raced towards the apartment building where John lived.

 

They rest, as people would call it, was history, geography and chemistry. History by proverb, geography by the way they had hungrily explored each other’s bodies and chemistry by the way they nearly burned up the sheets as they made love.

 

“What are you thinking about?”

 

Sherlock’s elbow to his ribs nudged John back to the present. He smiled fondly at his man and kissed the top of the dark brown head. “Just got lost for a while,” the good doctor confessed, “I must admit, I have never acted like this ever before. I have been attracted to people but not as obsessively and powerfully as I was attracted to you. I have been kind before, but never felt afraid on behalf of someone else like I feared for you when Seb’s men were parked outside this building. I have felt happiness but never know true joy till I saw you waiting for me in that room. I doubt if I would ever feel this kind of happiness again, the sort that makes you giddy. Never before and never again.”

 

“Mmmm Jawn.”

 

“Hmmm Sherlock.”

 

“Is that sarcasm?”

 

“No, I just felt like….”

 

“Never mind. Well, I wanted to say, I would like to live in London.”

 

“I am more than happy if you do babe. But this flat is all I got. I don’t have a huge house to offer you here.”

 

“I have. We can share that. Unless your ego gets in the way.”

 

John thought for a few moments. “Look, I don’t mind sharing that house. But I doubt if I can fit into your society and the circle you move in.”

 

Sherlock’s chuckle against his skin tickled John and he rearranged their positions so his young lover was now lying beside him, facing him. “C’mon Jawn,” the curly haired man said, “If I really had a big circle, social or filial, would I be running down London streets penniless and pursued by three waiters? You, by the way, happen to be a man of substance as compared to the vapid, vacuous airheads in my family. People with loads of money and zero sense.”

 

John kissed the tip of Sherlock’s nose and wrapped an arm around him.

 

“Words wiser than the years you walked on this planet. Thanks Sherling, you made a lot of sense.”

 

“I guess the ordeal I faced toughened me up and taught me some lessons in wisdom. Also, thanks to you…..”

 

He stopped abruptly and John frowned. “Hey,” he said, pushing back those sweat damp locks from his forehead, “You okay love?”

 

“Yeah-yeah-yeah, I am, I absolutely am,” Sherlock insisted, “Just wanted to say that thanks to you I am an old twenty-one-year-old now, not some inexperienced and innocent child.” He was snuggling closer to John and tucking his head deeper into the pillow. He was getting drowsier. John was dead tired too but somehow sleep wasn’t even close to him, not even by a mile. He was simply too overwhelmed and too excited to get some shuteye. But that didn’t mean Sherlock didn’t deserve his rest so he started to card his fingers through his partner’s hairs, watching with satisfaction and fondness as Sherlock began to yawn wide and frequently.

 

But just as his eyes began to droop, Sherlock probably got a sudden spark of thought and jerked back to wakefulness and alertness. “What happened?” John asked, “Take a nap. It’s only ten-thirty in the morning. We’ll wake up in two or three hours and cook lunch together. I think I can borrow some items from Mrs. Hudson’s kitchen and rustle up a pot of noodle soup with vegetables and a half-boiled egg on top.”

 

“Delicious,” Sherlock said, “Well, I just wanted to say something to you. I mean, it’s not a biggie right now but later on it might be.”

 

“Go on,” John said as normally as possible while he felt jittery inside. _What could this be about?_

 

The answer turned out to be totally unexpected. “For a profession I have chosen a slightly orthodox line. I mean I don’t want to do a job like my brother or one like you. Too many people to answer to, too regular and routine, too much of acting on other people’s instructions.”

 

John heaved a sigh of relief. “Okay Sherling, what would you like to do?”

 

“I want to be a consulting detective.”

 

When John didn’t react (except for a smile), Sherlock repeated, “You heard me? A detective.”

 

John realized his lover wanted validation and support. He quickly offered both, “It is an orthodox choice but it’s not a bad choice, it’s just different. But the good thing about this profession is that it needs exceptional people like you and offers great rewards if you excel in your deductive reasoning. It may or may not fetch a lot of cash but laurels and feathers in your cap, job-satisfaction, adventure and thrill, that would come to you in plenty.”

 

Sherlock closed his eyes and smiled peacefully, finally ready to nod off. As he was about to slide into slumber he mumbled something which John couldn’t quite hear. “Hey,” the doctor whispered close to his ears, “What did you say?”

“I said I have never met another person like you…..” John felt tears of joy prick at his eyes, even though the sentence was left unfinished.

 

But Sherlock wasn’t someone who liked to keep things unsaid or ‘half-spoken’. Even though John assumed he had nodded off, the green-eyed stunner’s lips moved slightly. With the remainder of his consciousness Sherlock added, “I doubt if I’ll meet another one like you in this life. Never before and never again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for being a part of this JohnLock journey!

**Author's Note:**

> Has a bit of a Roman Holiday feeling. Sexual tension initially, actual sex happens later. Story is mostly centered around Sherlock and John. Other characters and relationships are relatively minor.


End file.
